Wolves

“Quick! Climb a tree!”

I pivoted on my right foot and scurried up the nearest pine. The splinters scratched at my palms, but I didn’t stop until I reached the top. Spotting a sturdy branch, I rested on it, and then waited until the others joined me. I saw Tae Kyung about one metre down, but Cedric was barely up the tree yet. Tae Kyung filled the empty space beside me, and with a heavy sigh, grabbed my hand. The howls were growing louder, coming closer. Then I heard a malevolent snarl, a scream, a thud on the forest floor. My insides clenched as I peered down to see Cedric lying on the ground, four wolves pacing around him in a tight circle. We met eyes. I felt his fear, for it was also pulsing through my veins.

“Don’t let her look.”

My cheeks were snatched up, my neck turned until I was looking into Tae Kyung’s eyes. His arms were strong, and I could not turn back. A terrorized scream pierced the air. Growls, barks, and snaps followed. Something cracked, another tore. The screams had turned from high-pitched cries to gurgling moans. I saw nothing but the determined man holding my face. He lifted his thumb to wipe the tears that had sprung from my eyes, and then pulled me closer to embrace me.

I realized I didn’t want to cheat and look over his shoulder, to see what remained of my brother. The only sounds left to be heard were the crunching of bones, the gnawing of flesh. Soon, paws pounded on the ground, and with one last victorious howl the wolves disappeared.  Tae Kyung released me, but I continued to gaze at his face. He did not return that action. Instead, he looked down below, and froze in place. His eyes were wide, his mouth hung open slightly, and his hands clenched my thighs. My curiosity could not take it anymore. I looked down. Immediately, I regretted it. What lied down there was unrecognizable. Shredded skin hung from the chin. The torso was torn open, organs missing, others spilled out onto the dirt. Blood, there was so much blood. No matter where I looked, there was always a red stain in my sight. Blood. I could smell it. My stomach could hold no longer, and I turned around to vomit. Blood. One more hurl, and my throat was burning with stomach acid.

After spitting a few times, I lifted my head up, but not to the corpse. I didn’t know how I would ever climb down that tree, at level with that nightmare. Maybe, if I stayed up there long enough, it would simply fade away. But I knew that it was not true. I would have to face that mauled body that once was my brother. So brave, so sure that everything was going to be alright. For a moment, I wished that it was Tae Kyung devoured down there. But it was not humane to think such things. Instead, I took his hands and broke the silence.

“What do we do now?”

Taste of Chance

So oblivious. All oblivious.

He sat on the edge of the park fountain. A laptop computer rested on his knees, but his eyes were on the people strolling around him. They chatted with each other; some laughed, some appeared in a deep conversation. Some walked by themselves, either with headphones crammed in their ears or simply viewing the park. A teenager sat nearby him, nose-deep in a thick novel, her eyes darting back and forth across the pages. He sighed, wondering how people can be so wrapped up in their own little worlds.

Turning his attention back to the screen, he adjusted his glasses and rushed his fingers over the keys. Codes and passwords meant nothing to him; it was child’s play. He took a small external hard drive from his pocket, inserting it into the USB port. The laptop beeped as it leaked the sickness into the other computers it was taking hold of. He thought of what the circuits looked like. Possibly human veins. But their white blood cells were no match for his disease.

After the drive was unloaded, he clicked on a file labelled “Home Run.” A window popped up, demanding yet another username and password combination. He huffed a short laugh, typing in –

“Shhh. Shhh, honey. It’s okay.”

His fingers slipped, hitting the enter key. Flashing in big red letters cried “ACCESS DENIED.” He grunted in frustration, raising his head to see what caused this disturbance. A woman sitting across from him cradled a baby in her arms and was rocking it back and forth while it whined. He looked away at another mother and daughter; the little girl must have been at least four. She held tightly onto her mother’s hand as they skipped down the cement path.

Fiona was the same age. Maybe if he had taken her down here today, she and the other little girl could have formed a bond, become friends. Instead, she was at home, a breathing tube shoved up her nose. The thought jolted his anger, and he typed away until the screen read “ACCESS GRANTED.” No one looked at him. No one had any idea what he was doing. No one knew that he was gaining entry to the U.S. Department of the Treasury.

One million dollars. Those three words looked miniscule when he typed them into the amount slot. How could something be so small, yet so large? One million dollars. How could something as simple as money make such a difference? It was only numbers after all, imprinted on paper and coins. Something you traded between each other. It wasn’t even indestructible. He could lift up a one hundred dollar bill, light it on fire, and watch as it crumbled into a useless pile of ash. Yet it had become a human need, like water or food. People endured hours of hard work for it, sacrificed for it, even killed for it. And that was what he was ready to do.

He ran his finger over the mouse, moving it to a silver button on the screen. The one button that, with a simple click, could change his life forever. Whether the consequences were good or bad. The button was “Transfer.” Another sigh, he stared at the button, rubbing his chin. All he had to do was tap his finger, and he would become a millionaire. Or sent to jail, depending on how moronic he assumed the department was. He thought of his little Fiona. What had the doctor called it? Gliobla—multi— . He didn’t even know how to fucking pronounce it, and his only daughter was its victim.

It’s very lethal. Only 2-3 people per 100,000 receive this tumour. Without proper treatment, sir, she only has 14 months to live.

Surgeries and therapies in the movies all seemed so easy, so curable. What they didn’t tell him was that it cost a shitload of green. And with a mother with unknown whereabouts, and a father who had a job as a fulltime store clerk, the girl didn’t have much of a chance. But as he sat on that concrete that circled around the fountain, he held that chance in the palm of his hands.

                He was a slave to money under its sweet call. Barely living paycheque to paycheque in a beat up apartment, he never saw it coming when he was growing up. He never expected that he would have to choose between losing his loved one or himself. If he clicked that button, he would save his daughter, but he would transform himself into a villain. A fugitive. Twitching and gasping around every corner to avoid capture. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if someone found out.

                The baby across from him had stopped crying, now sucking on a pacifier as its mother continued to rock her arms. It was a beautiful sight. He remembered when Fiona was born, crying like hell, but she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He swore on that day he would never let any shadows touch his little angel. His promise had been broken.

                With clenched fists, he slammed his hands down on his laptop, not caring if anyone was watching. His teeth gritted up against each other as he pulled at his hair. A thief. A criminal. A villain. Fiona. What would she think? If she was old enough to understand, what would she tell him to do? No sacrifice, no gain.

                One more deep sigh, he shut his laptop and walked away.

The Shining by Stephen King: Alternate Ending

                A few minutes later, the doorknob rattled, and the door to the stairway was thrown open. Jack Torrance rested his foot back on the carpet, and stumbled into the freezing corridor. The roque mallet dragged along the floor in his hand, painting a line of crimson. He breathed heavily like a boar ready to charge. Sweat dripped from his dangling hair, falling down his forehead into a pool on his upper lip. Taking the handkerchief, he wiped his lips, and put it back into his chest pocket.

                The boy was running, but he couldn’t hide. He would catch him. The boy was being disobedient, he knew. Probably breaking something of value, or spilling something else on his property. He needed to be taught right from wrong. He was a naughty son who did not listen to his father’s commands. Jack began his march up the stairs.

                “Danny?” he called, “Danny, come here son, I need to talk to you. I need you to be a good boy and take your medicine. Danny? Danny!”

*

                Blonde hair clinging to her forehead, her fingers etching in new scars, Wendy panted on the mauled mattress. Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to sit up, but pain struck her ribs. She moaned, and her eyes welled up as she dug her fingers into the sheets. She had to get up.

(Lay here on this bed no one can hurt you here)

                Danny needed her help. He was out there, all

                (You need to do is lie here forever)

alone. Wincing and shrieking at every shift, she managed to roll over onto her back. Where was Jack now? Did the motor she heard earlier even exist? It had to; someone had to have come. This nightmare couldn’t possibly go any longer. Be it a ranger or Hallorann, it didn’t matter. They needed come to help them escape from the depths of the frozen hell.

Not knowing how she gained the strength, Wendy lifted herself from the bed and limped to the wasted door, nearly slipping on the earlier spilled change. She fell against the doorframe, gasping for air. Her lung was punctured, she knew it. It felt like inhaling flames every time she took a breath. A yelp escaped her throat while she clutched her chest. The smell of fresh blood and sweat filled her nostrils, making her stomach twist. She gulped down the bit of vile and hobbled into the hallway.

“Danny! Come here you little shit and take your goddamn medicine!”

The roar echoed from the stairwell, making Wendy jump. It was Jack. He wanted to find Danny. To find Danny and—and—

(And kill him)

With another moan, Wendy walked towards the stairwell. Footsteps thundered from down below, getting louder and louder and louder. She stared at the door, coiling away from it. Not a second later, the door flew open, smacking the wall beside it, the doorknob leaving a crumbling hole. Hunched over, Jack held the mallet in his hands in a ready-to-swing fashion. Wendy’s eyes widened. She squealed and backed away as his eyes wandered towards her scuffling motions.

“You. You little bitch! I’m gonna get you.”

His hands tightened on the mallet and he advanced towards her. She pivoted, trying to run from the approaching demon, but her leg wouldn’t let her run fast enough.

“You can’t hide from me now, I’ve got you.”

She let out a piercing shriek as she limped faster. The elevator was at the other end of the hallway. She had never dared to go down or up in that contraption the whole stay and now it was her only escape. Pain shot through her entire body, the pressure of the force pushing up on her leg from the floor was unbearable. Her leg was going to further break, snap right off. But Jack not far behind compelled her body to continue forward. She could hear him performing practice swings on the walls, preparing for its contact with her skull, preparing to bash her brains in.

                Tumbling into the elevator, the grate rattled as she shut it. Jack’s hands squeezed through the holes and extended towards her. Seeing he could not reach, he lifted the mallet and beat it against the grate. She screamed, jumping with every bang, and fumbled for the lever. He beat harder and faster; the mallet cracked. The elevator shook violently, and Wendy slammed the lever down. Slowing descending, she wept as Jack flung his arms up in the air in a manic rage, his eyes wide and staring at her before he disappeared out of sight.

                “I’ll bring your medicine downstairs to wait for you.”

                She heard him mutter, and with a panic she lifted the lever up to a neutral position. The elevator jolted to a halt. In the dark, Wendy curled into a ball in the corner, hyperventilating rapidly and hugging her battered leg. The air was thick; the walls were closing in around her. She thought of Danny, wondering where he was running to.

                (?? running at all ??)

                “No!” she screamed, and jumped up to the lever. Grasping it with both hands, she pushed up with all her strength. It didn’t move. With a short squeak, she pushed again. Still nothing. Cursing and shouting at the top of her lungs, she throttled the lever ferociously, causing the elevator to bounce.

                “No! No! This is not happen-- Help! Help! Somebody help me! Jack! Danny! Danny! DANNY!”

                Something punched her in the chest, breaking through and squeezing her insides. She slammed her hands against her chest, stumbling down to the ground. The darkness enveloped her. Suffocating her, she cried for each breath, the pain coming down from above. Her muscles tightened. The pain leaked into her veins and spread throughout her body. An anaconda strengthened around her, constricting her chest from rising. White dots splashed her vision in the dark. Her body going numb, she whimpered before she fell from the living world.

                “Danny....”

*

                Coming out from the ballroom, Danny wandered towards the motionless body in the middle of the lobby. Its cheek belched blood, forming a pool around it, slowing growing with each passing second. Laying a hand on its chest, Danny rested his ear nearly touching its lips. He could hear nothing. His bottom lip trembled; he resisted the urge to breakdown.

                “Danny! Where are you my beloved son?”

                Jack’s voice boomed from a nearby hallway. Danny bolted up, staring at the doorway; his body went tense. Within a few minutes, Jack appeared in the doorway, looking more grisly than ever. The mallet in his hand was a splintered mess. With a wild expression, he charged towards his son. Danny panicked, and ran to the stairwell, bursting through the door. Tripping on the first step, he yelped and climbed to the next steps.

                “Stop running, Danny! I just want to talk to you! DANNY!”

                Danny scampered as Jack’s footsteps rumbled the walls. He thought back to his Looney Tunes, feeling like the poor cat racing away, yet the skipping Pepé le Pew was catching up. Turning the corner, he encountered the door to the roof. He rammed it, but the snow that had built up outside of it was pushing back. His feet slipped as he drove the door open a few more inches. Squeezing out of the space, he tripped into the snow face first. The cold struck him like a freezing needle, soaking into his skin and coating his face numb. The wind thrashed his hair as he stood up.

He didn’t look back as he barrelled through the snow that rose up to his chest, at least three feet tall. Everywhere he looked, all he saw was white. The snowflakes beat against his face, blinding his direction across the frozen wasteland. His face was wet, soaked in snowflakes, tears, and mucus from his running nose.

“Danny!”

Through the winds, Danny could still hear Jack shouting his name. With his red sweater against the white snow, there was nowhere to hide. His body was quivering, his teeth chattering. He couldn’t tell where he was walking, or feel it, since his feet were numb to the bone. As he turned to look back, pain struck him between his shoulder blades, not even giving him enough time to scream before he fell into the snow.

*

                Grunting, Jack hammered at the ground, the drips of rubies increasing with every strike.

(TAKE your medicine LIKE A MAN)

He couldn’t hear the cracks, the snaps, or the tears, but he could feel it. Shock waves ran up the mallet and through his nerves. The feeling of power swept over him, causing him to laugh hysterically as he beat faster and faster and harder and harder. Soon he felt the mallet hitting only the cement of the roof, and drew the mallet back.

                “I WIN! I WIN!”

                He cried to the world as he continued his triumphant laugh, raising the mallet to the sky like a trophy. The snow had soaked up the blood like a dry towel, collapsing under its thickness. The stained spread to Jack’s feet, where he felt it absorbing into his shoes. It drew his attention down to the body, if it could even be called that anymore. The sight gave Jack a mental reality slap to the face, bringing a halt to his celebration. He fell to his knees, the mallet plummeting to the ground as his mouth gaped open. His bottom lip trembled, and he extended his hands toward the mess of red, but not being able to touch it.

                “Wh-What have I done?”

                His howls turned from those of success to those of distress. His heart panged as he howled with the wind, slamming his fists down into the snow. His boy, his son, the one thing he loved most, had been beat from the world with his own hands. Jack clawed his fingers in his hair, ready to tear out every last strand. He leaped up from the ground in a frenzy, using all the strength left in his legs to dash to the edge of the building. Without even taking one last look at the earth, he dove and connected with it instead.

Loyalty

Waiting patiently by the floor, her tail wags with a soft pat pat pat on the floor. She knows what time it is. Just as she predicted, you walk through the door, and she races up to greet you. Barks of excitement, her tail now like a helicopter, this is the best time of the day. You stroll to the kitchen to set your things down, and she follows you. Your little shadow. She now has a ball in her mouth, and drops it by your feet, looking up to you with joyful brown eyes. You pick it up and throw it, almost as if you’re trying to rid of her. But she brings it back, appearing at your side once more. A few more tosses, you grow tired and sit on the couch. She climbs up and curls in closely. You pop open a book and read as you put your arm around her while she sleeps. Soon, the book becomes sad, and with a broken heart, you rush upstairs to sob in privacy. Not long after, her head is placed in your lap. She doesn’t ask what’s wrong, only comforts you. Burying your face in her fur, you hold on until everything feels alright. She will always be there, by your side through all of your journeys. Protecting you from harm, she will fight off all of your fears. Her love is unconditional, eternally yours to keep and cherish. She will never judge or be mad at you. She doesn’t care about your mistakes, because to her, you are the greatest person alive.

Kallie

She’s curled on my bed, tail tucked in and paws clutched to her stomach. The light glistens on her coat, illuminating every strand with a soft glow. I run my hand down her side, and my touch melts on contact. She’s always warm and cozy, wrapped in her blanket of fur, a forever comfort. Her stomach rises and falls with every breath. I try to match my breathing with hers, but its so slow, like she’s trying to capture then release ever single oxygen atom, my lungs cannot take it. She begins to twitch, a low growl escapes from her throat, but her eyes are closed. She is dreaming. What is she seeing? Is she chasing a squirrel, or maybe a cat? Is she rescuing me from a fatal disaster? I suddenly realize that she has the capability to take my life, maul my body. But she doesn’t. She lets me pet her, lets me hug her, kiss her nose. Why? I suppose I will never know. She lets out a heavy sigh and I could feel the warmth of it. I rub her head, her ears. She opens her eyes and looks at me. Her eyes are a chocolate brown, and whenever mine meet hers, it tugs at my heart. What does she see when she looks at me? Does it tug at her heart too? Does she feel safe, loved, and not so alone when she lies next to me, the way I do? My eyes well up, and i bury my face in her neck. Her smell is intoxicating, my favourite aroma. I know I’ll be covered in dog hair when I realised her, but I don’t care, I love it. I know that there will never be another life her, she is unique in every way. Her mood swings, her “swimming” on the living room floor, and wanting me to chase her for hours on end. I must embrace these times, for they will not last much longer. I wonder if she knows this. If she’s trying to spend as many hours with me as possible before her time is up. Does she feel the long I give her? Does she know I’d rather taunt a lion than hear her cry? I remember when we first got her. She would whine and yelp inside her house late at night, howling with loneliness. I crept down the stairs and unlocked the little door, and out came a tiny fur ball, no bigger than my torso. I lifted her into my lap, she licked my hand as I did so. I stroked her body as she drifted to sleep. I had an angel in my arms. I still do. I wish I could grow old with her, watch the world age with her by my side. But in my heart I know this wish will not be granted. No shooting star can ever give me what I really want. When she leaves, it will cast a shadow over me. In darkness, I will dwell for countless days; nothing will ease her passing. So if dogs don’t go to heaven, when I die, I want to go where they go.

I Remember

I remember... The sheets were warm, our bodies sank into them. The room was completely dark except for the television, playing a show we weren’t watching. The light lit up his face, and then darkened, depending on the scene. From time to time we would hear a joke on the show, and we laughed with each other. I loved when he laughed. There was no need for a pillow, his chest held my head up. I could hear his heartbeat pulsing, his lungs inhale and exhale. It could have drifted me off to sleep, it was so calming. Feeling those things reminded me that he was alive, he was there, and all of it was real. His arms wrapped around me, it was better than a blanket. With his body heat and gentle touch, he could have fooled me. It was comforting, like a protective barrier. All the troubles bounced off the side, unable to penetrate through the force field. I could not have felt safer. The smell of his skin was amazing; he didn’t even have to try. It reminded me of something, I could never remember what, but I would have buried my face in his neck all night if I could. His kiss gave me butterflies, made my insides melt. With his lips against mine, I didn’t want them to leave. They fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces who had finally found each other, as did the spaces between our fingers. I felt dizzy but focused whenever we kissed, like I was in a daydream and real life at the same time. It got me drunk like no alcohol ever would. After we stood up, I almost fell over. But I suppose that was okay, because he would have caught me. When we embraced, it felt like fireworks were going off inside me. Our bodies so close that if we went any closer I was afraid I would crack a rib. But it was safe, it was warm, it was soft. I never wanted him to let go, to stay in that moment forever. When he left for the night, it was like a part of me disappeared. It felt empty and quiet. I crawled back into bed, but I wasn’t the same bed I had just laid in for hours. It became cold where he used to be, so I tried to fill the void with Kallie, but again, it wasn’t the same. I brought up the blankets over me in hopes that it would give me the same warmth his arms gave. It didn’t. My throat was dry, my lips were numb, my body cried out in exhaustion. I drank some water, it didn’t help, and laid my head on my pillow. I couldn’t hear its heartbeat, I couldn’t feel it breathing. I was about to close my eyes when I heard the beeping of my cell phone, signalling I received a message. I grabbed it, and read a “Good night, sweet dreams =)” from him. It made me smile, but it also made me long for his touch. Even though he was only gone for about 10 minutes, I already missed him. I couldn’t describe that feeling in one word, just that I wanted to see him all day, every day. I wanted to fall asleep on his chest with his arms clutching me, instead of on a pillow with a cotton blanket. I dove into thoughts, fantasies, and past events about him to keep me from becoming lonely. I knew I was tired, but it was so hard to fall asleep. I had my eyes closed and daydreamed, but I couldn’t drift off into real dreams. I looked at my hands and saw the empty gaps between my fingers. I didn’t want to see it, so I closed my eyes again. All I wanted to do was argue about who was more cool, who was more cute, who was more amazing (it was him). I wanted him to accidently tickle me, and then I poke at his sides for payback. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair while I gazed into his eyes. As many times as I blink, I’ll think of him tonight.

Heroine

The flames snap and bite at my heels as I soar through the burning warehouse. Sweat builds up on my forehead, my oxygen tank wearing my down, but I continue to heap over the oil tanks. I can hear shrieking cries of help, filled with pain and desperation. I bolt in the direction of the screams, as the fire around me grows stronger and scorches my suit. Lifting my axe, I hurl the blade at the wooden door, cracking the paint and tearing kindling. Through the holes, I can see two children with their faces buried in their mother’s arms. With all my force, I kicked the door, ripping it off its hinges and sending it flying. The trio hurry towards me, I snatch one of the children up into my arms, and lead the mother to the exit. Then, without a warning, the floorboard gives in, pulling me down to an inescapable doom. At the last second, I grasp the splintered floor and hang above a ten foot pool of flames. They jump and snarl, trying to take hold of me. I feel a hand on mine, and look up to see the mother. I throw my other arm, and with both our strengths, manage to lift me from the pit of hell. All four of us sprint to the doors, bursting into the outside world. As we sit on the edge of the ambulance, oxygen masks to our faces, the little girl slides over and hugs me in an embrace I longed to give.

Carnations

                The shop is alive, filled with bustling people digging for change or trying to remember where they last put their debit card. The aroma of coffee beans and freshly baked scones fill the air. To the mind it should give a sense of harmony, but with all the voices and scuffling feet, the feeling doesn’t penetrate my brain. I sit in the corner at a small round table, my legs crossed and my hair slung over my shoulders. My hands are wrapped around a cup of orange pekoe tea, keeping them warm. I stare out the window, breathing slowly, my thoughts blank.

                A pink delivery van pulls up next to the shop, “Fleur’s” written on the side with roses decorated around the words. A young man steps out from the driver’s side, strolling to the back and opening the doors. Thousands of flowers are in the back, every shape and size and forming a rainbow. All the bouquets are brilliantly arranged. The young man grabs one filled with yellow and pink carnations, carrying it inside. He stops at the door, peering around the busy shop with sharp eyes, and lays them on me. He walks towards me, holding out the bouquet.

                “These are for you.”

                Dumbfounded, my mouth was still, no words coming to mind of what I should say. He hands me the carnations, and I cradled them in my arms. Who sent these? Why? I wanted to ask the man all these questions, but he simply turned around and went back to his van, closing the doors and driving away. I looked down at the bouquet, the fragrance of it flowing up into my nose. It smelled like a little bit of heaven. A few people were staring at me, probably also pondering why I had received these flowers. I ran my hands over them, embracing the feel of their velvet petals. But something felt wrong. I traced my hand back, and felt something hard and thin. I pulled a small index card. I smiled, knowing I would find out who the mystery flower-sender was.

                Meet me under the willow tree in the park.

                My smile formed into a frown, for the message was typed. Curiosity raced in my heart. I drank the last of my tea, and took the flowers in my arms again as I left the shop. The park was not far, only a couple blocks. When I arrived, I sought out the grand willow tree, its branches touching the ground and creating a thick curtain. I held onto the bouquet with one hand as I drew the curtain back with the other, entering the shade.

                “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

                He leaned against the trunk, holding one pink carnation in his hand. Smiling, he strode towards me and placed the flower in my bouquet, taking my hand in his. I only stood and gazed at his face.

                “What are you doing?”

                “I’m here to ask for your forgiveness.”

                I let my hand slip from his, and looked down at the bouquet. They glowed in the shadows on the branches; a light in the darkness.

                “But . . . You forgot . . .”

                “I know.”

                “It’s been a year . . . It’s supposed to be special.”

                “And it is. I spend all my time thinking about you yourself, that I forget the real world sometimes.”

Softly laughing, he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, leaving my cheek embraced in his palm.

                “Ironic, isn’t it?”

                He raised my chin up so our eyes met.  Deep blue, his were like the ocean. When I looked into them, it was like everything around me faded away, and it was just us. That’s the way I wanted it to be. Crouching down, I placed the bouquet on the grass, and clutched both of his hands. They were warm. He pressed his body up against mine, putting on hand on my waist. He was warm. He was my own sun.

                “I’m sorry . . . I am truly in love with you.”

                The past and the future didn’t matter, it was the present that we lived in. So I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought him closer.

                “I forgive you.”

                He kissed me.

A Needle That Left Scars

                “Are you cold?”

                I nodded, and he stripped his sweater off his back, placing it on my shoulders. He kept his hand on my waist as we strolled beside the slowly running stream. The multi-coloured leaves crunched under our feet, mashing them into the mud. A squirrel scurried up a tree in the distance. I knew that while I focused on my surroundings, he focused on me. The feeling of guilt struck my chest, so I glanced up at his face. Our eyes met, he smiled, and then leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. His intention to cheer me failed.

                We soon arrived at a pond, dotted with fallen leaves. He picked up a small flat rock, and then tossed it across the surface. Frightened pond dwellers fled from the water ripples. A frog leapt from the depths, splashing his pants and soaking them through. He yelped, but laughed it off. I merely smiled. Why wasn’t I laughing too? The sight of him covered in muck with his bright warming smile should have been enough to make me giggle. I didn’t feel like myself.

                Taking my hand, he led me to an open field. The grass around it had grown tall and strong; I felt minuscule next to it. Halfway across, he fell back a little, then I felt his arms wrap around my waist. Embracing me from behind, he slid his chin into the space between my neck and my shoulder. He was warm and comforting; fireworks should have been bursting inside me. But there was not even a spark. Was I sick? Had I grown numb to such affection? I was my own stranger. He was what I had been waiting for, what I dreamed of having. But it was having no effect on me.

                I became ashamed. He gave me all this love and I was returning none of it. Why did he even stay for this long? By now he should have been gone, leaving me heartbroken. But I knew that this time, it was going to be the other way around. Of course I didn’t want it to happen, who would? Who would want to be so cruel to such a kind soul? I had to take this path to cure my sickness. I just wished he wasn’t the vaccine.

                Leaving the field, hands still entwined, we headed towards the exit. Time was running out, I had to do the action that I would regret. I had to heal my disease before I was shipped to emergency. Stopping in my tracks, I took his other hand and looked him in the eye.

                “I don’t love you like I did yesterday.”

                His grip on me tightened, the blow had taken full force. The thread that held up his heart snapped. He said nothing, but soon his muscles relaxed, and his hands fell from mine. All I wanted to do was shield him from my own evil. I wished that I could take it all away, and be the one that caught his tears. But the damage was done.

                “Why?”

                His lips trembled as he spoke, his eyes searching my face for a reason for what I did. How could I tell him that he was the reason to change who I used to be? If I told him, he would not have understood. Anything I told him he would not have understood.

                “I’m sorry.”

                Kissing him on the cheek, I began to walk away. I did not turn back to see whether or not his gaze followed. It would have hurt me either way. I continued down the path towards the exit, towards a new life. I would never forget the adoration he gave me. It gave me the motivation and strength to become a better person. So that one day, I might be worthy enough to receive a love like that, and to give it back.