The End of the Road

There she is, my love, my life. Her auburn hair falls perfectly over her shoulders and her eyes twinkle making the stars look like they are not shining. The grey in her eyes shines, teasing me. These are the most precious jewels; these eyes never fail to make you feel loved, feel wanted. My hand, as if out of habit, moves to her cheek. They are as soft as cotton and smooth as silk, and my fingers glide over them as a feather in the air. My thumb travels to her lips, luscious and plush, they part seductively, and a sigh escapes her mouth. She closes her eyes, waiting for my lips to meet hers…

And then as if by some invisible force she is pulled away from me and her eyes shoot open. They are no longer twinkling- they are pleading, begging for me to hold on to her. She extends her arm but she is too far away. She is fading, her lips are losing colour and her face becomes as pale as snow. My heart hammers in my chest, I shout but nothing escapes my mouth. She is fading, crumbling as if made of dust, disappearing into the oblivion, her eyes pleading… She’s gone.

I wake up with a jolt. My heart hammers in my chest and sweat covers every inch of my body. I look around and suddenly the room seems to suffocate me, the walls are closing in on me, moving closer with every second, threatening to trap me. My breath is rough and laborious as if the space around me has been robbed of oxygen, and I am unable to move. The silence of the night is now filled with screaming noises of that night, the police, my Delphie, the hospital, the sirens… all of them hit me like a wave, mixing and mingling and getting louder with every second. I press my palms against my ears; still, they hurt. And now the only thing that pierces me is the silence. It accuses me of my deeds and how they left me here. It accuses me of being me, of never understanding others' needs, of never being able to be there for the people I loved. It accuses me.

I run to the balcony. As soon as the cold night air hits me, I collapse, my back to the wall and my knees close to my chest. I breathe and take in the guilt-filled air and wait for the tears to come, but they never do. It’s just the silence that hurts me like I hurt everyone. It’s just the memories that come flooding back.

It was all my fault. My Delphie isn’t here because of me. Only if I hadn’t been so drunk; only if I had been there to take her to the hospital; only if I had been there to take care of her. Only if I had been there for her, like all the times she had been there for me. Her face, her beautiful face, keeps floating around me, pricking my heart about how careless, how fickle I had been.

There she was lying on the road covered in her own blood... dying because of me. I scarcely remember that night. I had come home, high and drowsy and had collapsed on the couch. I can see vague images of her in her favourite yellow dress, fumbling, sweating, falling, asking me to take her to the hospital. It is what I said to her that I remember most clearly, it is those words that burn my soul. “Don’t act, Delphie. Go to bed.” I had told her. I can’t remember what happened next; only the call next morning from the hospital… and my world had come crashing down.

When I close my eyes, I can no longer see her smile, the twinkle in her eyes or hear her laugh. All I can see is her hair scattered, stained in her own blood. Her limbs lying on the road at unnatural angles. Her dress soaked in her blood. Her eyes- her eyes wide with fear and surprise.

Now every day is just the same without her. There are no surprise dinners, or midnight walks, no bike rides and no parties. It is just my grief and me, going to work, returning home and sleeping. Emotions have ceased to exist in me. It is as if my life has hit a dead end. There is no going further.

I know she has forgiven me, but I don’t think I can ever forgive myself.

- Heer Visaria