For those of you who missed the first part last week you can check it out here. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna give a long preamble or anything since I know you’ve been just dying to get back up in it! 😉 I’ll start y’all off on the paragraph we left off on just as a wee refresher. Enjoy!
She saw blood in the middle of the room, unmistakable in its colour and consistency. Even from here. She looked frantically at her hands, her arms, her legs, her stomach. She felt around her back, but still nothing. She decided that it must have been her husbands. But why did he fly into a rage this time? That man could be so irrational when he was mad, flying off the handle, getting drunk and then trashing their home. They had had to move three times since John had lost his job, because the neighbours would complain and eventually theyd get evicted. God, sometimes she just couldnt stand him. There was a big difference between being in love with someone and simply loving them. She had never been in love with John, that she was sure of. And, although she is not sure whether what she had ever felt for him was love, whatever it was stopped long ago.
But she was married, and she didnt believe in divorce. She had vowed in front of God til death, for better or worse, no matter how faintly ill he makes you, and besides at least he didnt take his violence out on her. Hed screamed at her, sure, and had thrown things, but he had never been mad at her and never once had he raised his hands to her. And even if that hadnt been true, til death remember? Even if hes the cause. And they could always buy new things. They always did, and things were never so bad. She felt the tension ease slightly in her shoulders again, but after the last shock she wasnt willing to let her guard down. Her muscles screamed for relief, but she couldnt. Not yet. She heard sobbing, soft and so full of sorrow that her heart began to ache for the person that was feeling that misery. It was weird how paper thin the walls were, and how some sounds, no matter how well hidden one tried to keep them, got through to the neighbours anyhow.
Her mind slides into the past, although she knows its almost at that part, and it stops being as much of a comfort, and more of a burden. She thinks maybe itll help to drown out the sobbing if she can think of something else. So she thinks of Anthony, how he did the gentlemanly thing and waited until Aiyanna had her sixteenth birthday party to ask her fathers permission to take her out on a date. The months between prom and her birthday had been positively torture for Anthony, but Aiyanna was worth the wait. After an interrogation that seemed to go on for the entire party, either openly or clandestinely, her father ended the night by patting Anthony on the shoulder, and telling him quite seriously that he had a twenty gauge shotgun in his bedroom closet, and that as long as he was on our property he would technically be trespassing, and its not illegal to kill a man to defend your home and family. Her father hugged and kissed her, and whispered in her ear
“I like him. Hes a good guy”, and then stumbled into the house. Aiyanna and Anthony were inseparable from then on. The following two proms they were voted king and queen, and at graduation were voted as the couple most likely to get married. They were so in love that it made people either sick to their stomachs or green with envy, although it was the quiet kind of love that was never overstated or obvious, unless you could pick up on subtle hints, like the ways in which they would look at each other, or hold hands. Graduation day, in her backyard where two years earlier Anthony had asked her father for permission to date her, Anthony got down on one knee and asked his beloved princess if she would do the honour of marrying him. She had nearly melted with joy, and a date was set not long there after for their marriage. Careful, loving preparation went into the planning of the wedding, the selection of the bridesmaids, grooms men, maid of honour, best man, flower girl and ring bearer, location, colours, flowers, food, and wine. Each day their love grew stronger, each day Aiyanna knew she could never be happy with anyone but Anthony. Everything was set. Less than a week until the wedding, and then suddenly her world was irreparably shattered.
She would never forget the events of that day, or the feelings that came along with them. She got a call from Anthonys mother, who was weeping, urging her to come to the hospital, and quickly. Anthony had been shot by a disgruntled job applicant who couldnt stand that the young nigger got the job instead of him. Aiyanna rushed to the hospital in a frenzy, her mind racing, her mouth unconsciously whispering prayer after prayer. She got to the hospital just in time. Anthony had opened his eyes and was coherent. She burst through the doors to his room. He looked her in the eyes. Both of their eyes were wet with tears, and said more than they ever would have had time to say.
“I love you baby. I have since I first saw you. I always will”. It was obvious that Anthony was having difficulty breathing, but still the words were uttered with such passion that it made the nurse teary, and she had excused herself briefly.
“I love you too sweetheart. So much. I will always love you, I will always be yours”. Aiyanna choked out the words. What she wanted to do was beg and plead, tell him he is NOT allowed to die, but all that would have done would be to make his last few moments agony. For she could already see the life dimming in his eyes, and feel his grip weakening. Then he opened his eyes, determination spreading across his face, and his grip tightened. He said, with all the fierceness he could muster,
“Aiyanna. I love you. I love you. You are my wife, and I love you”. And then he lay back, and he died.
No she cried. It had all happened so long ago, and yet she could feel it as though it was happening right that second. The sobbing was louder, much, much louder, and it was wrenching her heart, making her sick, impacting the sadness she was feeling for her lost Anthony, at the life she was meant to live. Shut up, she wanted to scream, shut up, shut up, shut up! But she couldnt. She realized shed have to stop sobbing to speak. She was the one sobbing, she realized with some shock. She always had been. But there was no time to contemplate when and why she had started to sob. Her stomach was in a vice of sorrow so profound it caused her curl up into a ball, sliding slowly sideways down the wall until her side connected with the floor. In the corner in her living room, on her hard wood floor she wept, she wept for her dear Anthony, she wept for dear Aiyanna, she wept for the agony she felt. It seemed that agony was always a part of her life. She was so tired.
Suddenly she felt violently ill to her stomach, and she half crawled, half slid to the washroom, where she pulled herself up by the toilet bowl. Spasm after spasm rocked her stomach, but all that came out was a thick, putrid bile. It made her wonder how long she had been in that corner. It made her hope it had been days, and that John had been hit by a bus. It made her wish that she would simply puke herself to death so she could join her Anthony. Or maybe eventually starve to death. But eventually the spasms ended, and she slipped from the toilet rim and leaned against the tub. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, but she had learned long before never to touch her face after a night like this. When she had gathered her strength, she pulled herself up and washed her face in the sink, never looking in the mirror. She never looked in the mirror anymore, hadnt in years. Who cared anyway what she looked like anyway? Certainly not her.
She had a throbbing headache, probably from the gaping wound in the back of her head, peeking through her short, dull hair, which she had refused to touch, for she had learned long ago that she should never touch her head after a night like this. She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and some aspirin. She dry-chewed 6 aspirins, and used the water to wash the remainder of the chalky residue down her throat. She refilled her glass and was heading back to her corner when she accidentally caught a glimpse of herself in the microwave door. She reeled back, and started to whimper. How could she keep herself convinced that things werent so bad after all if she could see her swollen, bruised face after a night like that?
And that’s the end. Seriously, there currently are no more parts to this story, you’ve now gotten the whole kit and kaboodle. What did you think about the story? Did you think it was well written? What do you think Aiyanna should do in her situation? Do you think I should extend the story a bit more or do you think it ends at a good place? Thanks for your feedback guys, I love hearing from you all!
Have a wonderful Wednesday