A moment's worth

She gazed into the full-length mirror and saw a tall, slim girl in a flowing, ivory wedding gown. Her dark, wavy hair was swept back into simple, but exquisite curls, adorned all the way with tiny stones, the rest of it falling free on her shoulders.

Her mother walked up to her, placed a sparkling tiara on her head, and smiled. "The perfect bride."

No one saw the dark eyes, empty, devoid of emotion.

***

He stifled a scream, looking aghast around the hall. He hadn't expected everything to be so...pink.

When he had agreed to the theme of the wedding, lilies, he had pictured white lilies. Not that he cared, but he'd have preferred it if it didn't look like he was going to be married in Barbie-land.

*** 

"...may now kiss the bride."

The moment she had been dreading.

She didn't make eye-contact as her veil was lifted. Sensing her obvious discomfort, he simply brushed his lips against hers. A twinge of pain and unease shot through her, and she winced ever so slightly.

The audience sighed happily. The perfect wedding.

For the millionth time that day, she wished she could forget, willing the tears not to come.

***

 "...may now kiss the bride."

A giggle. He strained to stop rolling his eyes.

As the veil lifted, he had a sudden vision of another face with dark eyes, looking back at him defiantly, a ghost of a grin playing on her lips, as though daring him to approach. The face that had haunted him for two years. The face he could never glance upon without a stab of guilt and pain.

Another giggle brought him back to the present. He leaned across, moving mechanically, and kissed her, lips hardly touching.

A shower of pink confetti rained down on the couple. He suppressed a groan.

***

She couldn't handle it any longer. She excused herself from the party, and walked quickly towards her room. She closed the door behind her , and let the silent tears flow.

The instant she had whispered the words, "I do," she had felt a dreadful helplessness. It was all over. She closed her eyes.

She had taken the first steps to a new life, yet, she couldn't let go.

 She wasn't sure she wanted to.

 ***

No one noticed the blue eyes assume a far-away expression, or the slight frown on his features as he looked out of the window, unseeing. He knew it was hopeless, but he refused to let go.

He wondered if she remembered. Day after day, the memory only etched itself more clearly, the pain slowly consuming him.

The worst part was the lingering doubtfulness.

***

(2 years ago)

She walked as quickly as her heels would allow her; the wet mud on the roads wasn't helpful, nor was the deep rumble of thunder overhead. She groaned as the slight drizzle suddenly roared into a full blown downpour.

*

As though his weekend hadn't been bad enough, rain started beating down on his car. He gritted his teeth at the sight of the traffic ahead of him, shook his head, and looked out of the window.

And there she was, on the sidewalk, glaring at the grey sky with all the contempt she could muster.

"So...your plan was to stare at the sky and make it stop raining?"

"Nice to see you too."

"You could've called."

"And asked you to...what, exactly? Drive along the road in the rain until you find me?"

"Not like I had anything better to do."

*

She shifted in her seat. Being inside the car in her damp clothes was even worse than standing outside getting wet.

She looked at him, struck by a thought, "Is everything alright?"

"Why the question?"

"Well, first, you didn't answer, and that means no. And second, I've been sitting here dripping water on your leather interiors for a while now; and you haven't made an effort to even look annoyed."

He glanced at her, "I did see that," he said with a smirk, "Interesting choice of color for the weather. White, I ask you?"

Any other girl would have blushed and looked away. This one, well, she saw through his bullshit in a second.

"Shut up, perv" she said, "But seriously, what's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, let out an audible sigh, and as though each word caused him physical pain, said, "Last night was bad. And I mean, bad bad. I got sloshed, because when I sleep sober, the dreams happen. And then he dies all over again."

"Okay, I am not even going to pretend to know what it is like to lose your brother, but this is definitely not what he would've wanted for you. It's been a year."

"Time only makes it worse. You start forgetting the little things."

"I don't know how to respond to that."

"Yeah, pain makes you do stuff."

"Oh crap. What did you do?"

He sighed. "Nothing, I didn't do anything."

She knew that look, she had seen it a million times in the mirror. He was in pain, he needed help, he needed a friend. Her eyes bored through him with each word, "What. Did. You. Do."

He shrugged, and pulled up his sleeve to reveal parallel cuts across the forearm, and tiny circular wounds, all barely healed.

"Cutting wasn't enough? You had to burn yourself too?"

"Well, I found a cigarette. And I don't smoke."

"Not funny." "I was drunk! I didn't know what I was doing! Look, I don't expect you to get it," he said, looking away.

*

She wondered if she had pushed him too far.

 She let him drive along in silence for a while, and then, not looking at him, she said, "I get it. I don't expect you to believe me. But I do. When you take the blade in your hand, you feel powerful. You feel like you are in control. No one else can hurt you, but you. And for a while after, as the blood flows and the pain burns, it overcomes all other emotions; it makes you feel free somehow, like physical pain is the only thing you have to deal with, at least for the moment."

*

He froze. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't this.

She kept her eyes on the road, like she didn't want to see his reaction to what she had said, what she had admitted about herself.

He wanted to reach out, say something; but there was too much tension in the air, too much baggage out in the open. He wanted to make her feel safe, all his problems suddenly seemed irrelevant somehow.

They drove on until they reached her hostel, the silence only punctured by the occasional biker speeding ahead in front of them. "I'm sorry, I didn't..." he started, but stuttered to a stop when she looked his way.

*

She had expected to feel exposed, vulnerable or angry even; but as she held his gaze, she felt like a burden had been lifted.

As the unrelenting rain crashed down around them, she felt her heart race.

*

He was close enough to smell her, and as the subtle scent of orange blossoms enveloped him, his heart hammered away in his throat.

He stared into her deep brown eyes, eyes so intense that he could have looked into them forever without questioning reality or destiny.

He hesitated, a moment too long.

*

A sudden knock on the door startled them.

Someone pulled her door open before she had a chance to react. "Dude, I saw your car! Oh, hello!"

His friend gaped at her, taking in her dripping wet hair, and her disgruntled expression.

He laughed, "Went out for a walk in the rain, did we?"

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Things had ended so abruptly, it took her a minute to realize he was talking to her.

"No kidding, Sherlock," she said, stepping out of the car."

"Wait. He let you in his car? I'm not allowed to bring my beer in here, but it's okay for you to drip rainwater all over his precious leather seats?"

His friend got in, still chattering about the unfairness of it all, oblivious to what he had stumbled upon.

As he drove away, she risked a quick glance at the car to see if he would look back, wave, anything.

He didn't.

*

She didn't know he was watching her in the mirror.

He waited for her to wave, do something.

She didn't.

***

(Present day)

She splashed cold water on her face, and fixed her make-up. She wondered if he even remembered. Maybe she had read too much into nothing.

She forced herself to believe it, every day of her existence.

There was a part of her that was never convinced.

***

(Present day)

Out of his reverie, he blinked away the wetness in his eyes. He would never know.

The uncertainty crushed him.

The pain brought a distorted comfort, and he would rather die than give it up.

***

The Choice

She clutched at her covers in fear, at the sudden chill of her surroundings.

Something was definitely not right, she just didn't know what. She took a deep breath, and sat up.

Her room was...gone. She was in a large circular room with polished black walls, smooth black marble floors, and a ceiling so high that she couldn't see it, or it was black as well and it couldn't be seen.

What bothered her the most was the lack of windows, doors, or an obvious light source.

Until she heard the Voice.

Then she panicked.

The Voice was cold, unnatural, and seemed to come from the very walls of the room, reverberating through her spine.

She would have run, except she forgot how to. She stood rooted in place, from fear, anger, curiosity, she couldn't tell.

"Well, well, well. Astoria Holmes. I should tell you, no mortal has ever visited my chambers before. But you...you are the first one here by invitation."

Mortal? Did he call her 'mortal'? Like she was supposed to be dead or something. Was she? But when she found courage to open her mouth, another question came out,  "Who...are you?"

He laughed. Not a cold laugh, like she would have expected. But a laugh that sounded almost genuine, but ended almost as soon as it started.

"I have never been asked that question. People who appear before me always know who I am. Your time hasn't come yet. You've been burdened with a lot. So much pain in someone so very young...you would probably blame me, I suppose. But I didn't have a choice. I'm giving you one. Memories are a powerful thing. But remember, child, knowledge comes with a price."

She looked around and paled at the new piece of furniture that seemed to have materialized behind her. The table didn't look exactly solid, but as if it was made of dark grey smoke. A small, intricately fashioned golden hammer lay to her left. The centre of the table had a circular dent that could easily fit the head of the hammer.

On the other side, a thin silver cup of what seemed to be a clear sparkling liquid stood tall, beads of condensation on its surface, wafting a sweet, almost entrancing vapor in her direction. The Voice said, “Go ahead, make your choice.”

But she didn't see all these things first. What caught her attention was the design on the surface of the table. A skull and crossbones. She stopped breathing as she put two and two together. She knew who the Voice belonged to.

The drink. The waters of the Lethe. She knew what it would do. It would wipe out all her memories since the day that had changed her life. 

The day she had woken up in the hospital with no recollection of how or why she was there. The reluctance of her mother when she had asked about it. The piercing stares. The whispering. The accusing looks. The way that no one ever looked her in the face after that. All the visits from family, cut short, because no one seemed to want to answer her questions. The unexplainable guilt that grew with every passing second. As to why, she had no clue.

She had endured two weeks of that torture, she wouldn't anymore. She needed to know.

She picked up the hammer, and brought it down, harder than she meant to, pushing it into the circular dent in the middle of the table. It didn't make contact. Instead, the entire table dissolved into smoke, rising and swirling around her, and in the depths of the grey, she saw two figures,  moving, not like a video, but not quite unlike.

She saw herself carrying a baby, her little niece. The two month old was a delicate little thing, with huge, watery black liquid eyes and a cute little smile that made her heart melt. The child nuzzled comfortably against her neck.

She checked the temperature of the little bath she had drawn up, and apparently satisfied, she carefully lowered the child into the warm water. She watched herself suddenly go rigid, fall to the floor and convulse. She watched helplessly as she flailed on the ground, till the water rose in the tub, the child still inside.

She collapsed on the floor, as the smoke around her broke form, washing over her and disappearing, leaving her shaking with shock, denial, guilt. She lay there for hours, minutes, days...she lost count.

She suddenly remembered something and jumped up, reaching for the silver cup. But it had vanished along with everything else.

A choice.

And she had made the wrong one.

***

(A note to the reader: The supernatural element in the story is perhaps, not clearly explained. I had assumed that the few references, the talk of mortals, the skull and crossbones, the Lethe reference, and the subtle "I had no choice in the matter of your neice's death" would be enough clue for the reader to make out who the voice belonged to.

Hades, the Greek God of the Underworld, is the main focus of the supernatural. His main domain, the Underworld, guarded by Cerberus, the giant three headed dog, also houses five magical rivers, including the Lethe, which is said to contain waters so powerful that it is capable of wiping out memories of an entire lifetime.

I have, perhaps arrogantly, overlooked the fact that not everyone is a nerd, and hence not aware of Greek Gods and the various magical rivers they have under command. If you had it figured out, you have my appreciation.)

An eternal nightmare

She silently slipped into the bathroom, the knife tightly held in her hand, and locked the door, willing the tears not to come. She raised her arm, felt the cold metal touch her skin, and brought it down in a meaningful stroke. It formed an nasty wheal across her wrist.

She inhaled deeply, and tried again.

Harder. Deeper.

This time she drew blood, her hand stinging as the blade slipped and fell onto the floor. She bit her lips in pain, craving more, willing the agony to choke her from within.

***

(A week ago)

"Dude, dude, calm down!! People would think you've never seen a car in your life!" she laughed, as her brother squealed in happiness at the sight of the car.

"Are you sure you're not coming?", her aunt asked, checking for flaws in her make-up in the rear-view mirror.

"I'd love to, but I've got some project work to do. Besides...Good lord, would you remain still for half a minute so I can buckle you up?"

He replied with chuckles, banging on the side of his baby seat, enjoying the fact that he could produce sounds that way.

"We'll be back in an hour. Do you want anything?", her mother asked, getting in. "And who adjusted the rear-view mirror?"

"No idea," she said, rolling her eyes at her aunt. "And you have fun, buddy. I'll arrange the magnets on the fridge so you can mess them up later."

Her mother laughed. Her brother extended his hands toward her, she smiled, stepped out of the car, and closed the door. As realization dawned on him that she was not coming along, a puzzled expression spread over his face, and then as her mother started the car, he waved at her, visibly disappointed.

*

2 hours later, irritated that they weren't back, she picked up her mobile and speed-dialed her mother.

Someone answered. No one spoke. She knew immediately that there was something wrong. Very wrong.

"Mom?", she said, trying not to panic.

Amidst sobs and gasps, her mother tried to explain what had happened. Something about a drink truck driver, wrong side of the road, blah blah blah. But she didn't care anymore about what had happened. Only one thing was on her mind.

"How's my brother?"

Silence.

"I asked you a question! Answer me, damn it! How. Is. He?"

And the world, as she knew it, ceased to exist.

With every word that she heard, her grip on the phone tightened, bile rose up in her throat, her stomach twisted into knots, tears stung her eyes; as her world crashed around her. She screamed, but no voice came out. She stood there as though petrified, and without warning, collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath, wanting to die.

***

As drops of blood fell onto the marble floor, she glanced at the tear-stricken face in the mirror, a ghost of its former self, and realized that compared to the pain she was suffering, any weapon, however brutal, would be a pathetic diversion.

Her sole reason for existence had been cruelly snatched away from her. And that punishment, she would endure forever.

In shallow depths

She watched, as life flickered out of the chocolate brown depths of those eyes that had changed her life forever; a strange combination of distorted satisfaction and hopeless despair coursing through every part of her.
 

It wasn’t fair on your part,

Being so close, you couldn’t read my heart.

That was, perhaps, never meant to be,

But what I couldn’t have, neither should she.

***