She had taken to sleeping with a knife on her bedside table for a while now. She hadn’t used it. Not yet, at any rate. It was a long time since she had sought that kind of release. It was almost midnight. She had spent the entire day in bed. But tonight would be different. She took the knife out of the drawer. It had been years upon years since she had hurt herself. She was nervous, but excited. She pricked herself almost playfully. A drop of blood: a spark of life. For the first time in many days, she smiled. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, she knew. Something had broken inside her when he had left her, and she would never be whole again.
She had gotten used to feeling ambivalent about everyone she met, but he had been different. With him, her rage and ecstasy had both been heightened, her hatred intensified, her love became pure. She had never felt more self-destructive than when she had been with him. He had been catharsis… He would ravage her with his hands and she would ravage him with her words. They used to bring out the worst in each other, causing more pain than either thought they were capable of feeling… She had never felt more alive than when she had been with him. She had to rid herself of thoughts of him soon or she wouldn’t make it through the night. She sliced her palm open with the knife, savouring the pain, and started to write… madly, fervently, passionately. And as the paper soaked in her blood, she poured her heart into it. She wrote pages upon pages, but he was so deeply woven into the fabric of her being that a hundred pages would not suffice.
It was almost dawn. She was exhausted and drained and feeling light-headed from the wound she had given herself. But she was still thinking about him… No, she said. I promised I would never do that again, she said. No, she said. I promised I wouldn’t humiliate myself like that again. No, she said… He won’t answer. But she called him anyway. And like he had for the past two years, he hadn’t answered. She couldn’t really blame him. Truth be told, she was broken long before she had met him. He had tried to fix the twist in her, but that had only made it worse. One day, when things had gotten too bad and the violence had reached its peak, she had told him that she needed some time apart. Go, he had said. Leave. I know you’ll be back soon enough. Two months after that, she had proved him right. She had run back to him unapologetic; by the end of the week, she had been reduced to begging and pleading on her knees.
However little could be said of their relationship, at least they had belonged only to each other… that is, until she had changed that. Loyalty was never her strong suit. He had even tried to get past it. She had argued that it was the only rational thing to do. For a time, it seemed like they would make it through unmarked. But he had not been able to forget. And she couldn’t really blame him. She had crossed a line only to realise that there had been one, and as much as he wanted her, he couldn’t forgive her betrayal. Things between them were now damaged beyond repair.
The moment passed. She got out of bed and began carrying out those tasks that were expected of her. She smiled an empty smile at those who were meant to be her friends. She had meaningless conversations with those who supposedly knew her. She went back to her mundane existence and she kept pretending. But today would be different. Something happened that she would never have anticipated: He called. She stared at the phone in disbelief. She pinched herself to make sure it wasn’t a dream. By the time she came out of her trance, she had missed his call… And just as she started to panic, he called again. She answered, cautiously.
He asked her to come meet him on the roof of his building. That did not seem strange in the least. They had had their few tender moments on that roof, after all… She would count the stars and he would trace her outline with his fingers. And on starless nights, they would stare at the city lights together as he ran his hands through her hair. It was only fitting that he would want to meet her there: the only place where they had felt normal. All the same, she was anxious about meeting him. She had no idea what he might want of her. And before she knew it, she was out on the roof searching for him. But he wasn’t there… It’s okay, she told herself. He’ll be here soon enough. She walked around in circles for two hours, telling herself that he would come.
Finally, tired, she sat down and sank in despair… And as she thought that all hope was lost, she spotted his shadow.
Before she could even get a look at him, he threw himself at her. He embraced her powerfully, crushing her body against his. She could feel his heart throbbing madly, or maybe that was her own. He felt different… When at last he let go of her, she studied him carefully. He had taken to sleeping with a bottle on his bedside table for a while now, she had heard. And it was plainly true. He had a haggard look about him; he hadn’t slept in a while. Most nights he had been drinking himself to sleep, that much was obvious to her. She looked into his eyes long and hard… she knew then what he wanted of her. She shook with fear. She fought him off and began to run, but he caught up with her in no time. He struggled with her. She started to cry. No, she said. Look at me, he said. She wouldn’t. She dared not, lest she cave in. “LOOK AT ME!” he yelled. And so she did.
She gazed at him for what seemed an endless length of time. He traced her wound with his fingers and kissed her lightly around it. Fear slowly melted into understanding and understanding into acceptance. No more pain, he said. This is what we should remember of each other… This is how it should all end; we will never be apart again. They stood silently that way—windblown—for an hour, before she knew it was time. She held his hand and they looked at each other one last time. They jumped. Farther and farther down they fell with laughter that died upon their lips, their hands still entwined. And when the ground had still looked far away, she would have sworn that they were flying…
He arrived a few minutes later. The crowd had swarmed around the entrance to his building like flies. He pushed through them till he found her—broken and twisted. Her blood was still warm on the floor. When they turned her over, he fell to his knees in disbelief. No, it can’t be! Is it really her? He stared at her face for an endless length of time. It was almost two years…
- Shraddha Subramanian
