T H R E E 

***

He was so beautiful. The more I stared at his profile the more I realized why people make art. Moments in the present–like this– should last for eons. I felt the warmth from his hand as he led our way through the moonlit grass. My breath swirled in the air in puffs of white. The sun and the moon were both out at the same time. The sky spread like sorbet. Melting its colors all into each other.

"Almost there." His voice is soft and rich, and when he throws his head back and smiles at me... I still. His eyes light under a bed of thick lashes. A strong, masculine face stared into mine—sharp jaw-line, sculpted cheekbones, and a Roman nose. Dark stubble shadowed his cheeks, and his hair was dark —darker than the sky at this point.

I follow behind him. We walk across railroad tracks and debris toward a body of water in the midst of the forest. It's just him and I. This stranger means a lot to me I can feel it. The ducks sit on the water not disturbed by our presence. "It's so beautiful." I say in a whisper. I couldn't believe the peace that I saw. No horror and all harmony.

Our eyes hold for the longest of seconds. Then, gently, I feel the brush of his thumbs on my cheeks.

A tremor runs through me as he ducks his head. And then, He places one single kiss on the corner of my lips. When he leans back up, his eyes smile before he does. He smells like a layered combination of cologne, cigarettes, leather, and mint which was surprisingly dangerously addicting. "You're so beautiful." he whispers.

The way my body feels overworked—my heart leaping, every part of me overreacting to his smile, his glance, his smell. He's breathing fast, clearly fighting for control. And I want him to lose.

"You call that a kiss?"

His smile turns rueful, and he leans forward.

 Blood dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. Collecting in a puddle on the cold stiff grass. The silver glimmers as the blade doesn't stop. It was more than a drip. Red hot pools in my stomach as he jabs the blade again and again and again. I feel stuck in an endless loop. No one will hear me scream. I try to fight back but I know I'm going to die.  Soon, I don't feel anything anymore. No shock, no pain, no discomfort whatsoever. I slip away, losing the strength to scratch him again and he catches me- cradling me with  crimson fingers. He gently caresses my face before planting a gentle kiss on my lips. The taste of blood on my tongue as I fade into nothing. 

His dark energy matching the darkness beneath my eyes. "Forgive me."

I woke up in a sweat and glance at my clock. The time read 9:14 am. I stared at the ceiling in an attempt to process my dream. What the fuck?

Sleeping has always been a struggle for me. Every time I close my eyes at night, I'm plagued by paralysis, voices, and beings. Nightmares haunt me, filled with flashes of people I've never met meeting their untimely end. Car crashes, drownings, fires, accidents, and even purposeful deaths. Running and screaming, cliffs and jumping. Dreams have never been a pleasant experience for me. 

"Jude." My younger brother whispered from his cereal bowl before I even stepped through the kitchen entryway. My insides twisted themselves in knots as I went to grab a hot chocolate mix from one of the many boxes flooding our apartment. The dream was still heavy on my mind.

I tried my best to smile, but all I could muster was a soft greeting of the eye. My baby brother, Jay, was always so sweet to me, even as a little boy he climbed into my bed on nights that were particularly dark. There were no rivalries between us like our neighbors have with their siblings. I've manipulated everyone in my life to believe I was an asshole, except for him. 

"I'm sorry about your grandmother." He said not aloud but when he grabbed the kettle from the cabinet to hand to me I saw it, I felt it.

You will never forget where you were when someone you love dies. You won't forget the moments before, because it's easier to cling to that memory than the devastating one that follows after.

I'm still clinging to being in the backseat and singing "My Girl" with my mom to the top of our lungs. I didn't want to sing at first. But she forced it out of me. I remember going upside down three times after. I went through the windshield, and she never made it out. I won't forget the moment before, because now all that's left is after. I've never left the after, and I never will.

I lived with my grandmother shortly after that until my father came around. Something shifted whenever my mother died and everyone knew it. My Grann always made me feel like there was nothing wrong with me. She said I was granted special gifts. That God doesn't make mistakes, but I could see  the fear in my grandfather's eyes when he would catch me speaking to trees.

My first friend, Simone, entered my life in the most unexpected way - in my grandmother's  garden about a month after my grandfather left. It was a sunny day when her blue kite got entangled in the fence, and I eagerly rushed to her aid. Despite our efforts, we couldn't free the kite from its captivity. Little did we know that this shared struggle would become the foundation of an unbreakable bond. Living just next door, Simone became a constant presence in my life. Every day, like clockwork, we would meet at that very fence, ready to embark on countless adventures. 

Simone possessed a heart overflowing with kindness and a mind brimming with wonder. Her captivating big brown eyes, framed by honey-spun curls that gracefully brushed her ears, A delicate mole adorned the side of her neck, adding to her unique charm.  In the wake of my mother's untimely passing, Simone's friendship was a solace. She understood the depths of my grief and encouraged me. 

  My mind has always been a loud, dark, and... chaotic place. Unsurprisingly, I became an easy target for bullies. Yet, despite the challenges I faced, Simone was always there to meet me by that rusty fence.   With her gentle nudges, I found the courage to step out of my comfort zone. Her friendship was a precious gift that I cherished dearly. She taught me the power of empathy, the beauty of true companionship, and the importance of embracing one's unique qualities. Through her unwavering friendship, I discovered that even in the darkest of times, a glimmer of light can be found.

I remember wishing my mother could see that I finally had made a friend. Simone's family didn't allow visitors but we made it work by her coming over mine or staying outside. We played on the tire swing, played dolls in my room, ate breakfast together, and dress up. We told each other secrets. Her favorite was pink and so my favorite color was pink. She was there for me when I needed someone the most. She didn't think I was weird or strange. She didn't mind that my imagination was vast and I constantly wanted to play a new character everyday.

It was short lived of course. My heart sank as my grandmother beckoned me to the dining room. I had no idea what she wanted to talk about, but the somber look on her face made me uneasy. And then she dropped the bombshell - the neighbor's children had grown up and there was no Simone. It was a shock to my system, a revelation that completely shattered me. How could someone who was such a big part of my life simply not exist?

 There was no Simone. 

She never existed. 

My heart raced as I ran out of the house with puffy eyes in search of any trace of her beloved blue kite, but it wasn't there. Overwhelmed with emotions, I found solace in the softness of the grass beneath me, sinking to my knees. And with a nearby twig, I etched her name into the earth, as if I could summon her with the gesture. I cried so hard the heavens were moved by my plea, for later that night, rain poured down, as if nature itself also wept for my loss clearing Simone's name from the soil.

I never saw her again and I haven't forgave storms since.

I was diagnosed with Trauma Induced Psychosis at the age of ten. From that moment on, my perspective on the world shifted dramatically. It was then that I developed an intense aversion towards the color pink, as if it symbolized the pain and chaos that had consumed my young mind. In addition, I convinced myself that I didn't need friends, for fear that they would only complicate my already tumultuous existence.My mind, burdened by the weight of my condition, became a breeding ground for incessant thoughts, particularly those revolving around death. It was like my mind became a maze that I couldn't escape. Whenever my father arrived to take me to come and live with him and his new family I vowed to be normal. I went to my treatments and took my medications, and you can mostly say I'm all cured-- keyword: mostly.

My brother and I sat at the kitchen table, silently munching on our breakfast. It was a routine we had followed every morning, but today was different. Today was our last morning in this city. As I looked around, I realized that I would miss everything about this place - the sound of jazz music on Sunday mornings from Mr. Heights' window, the bright lights that illuminated the streets at night, and the delicious pad thai we would order at 2 am. 

I felt like my world was ending, but not in the way I wished.