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Loss: show
It was hard to forget the horrors I had seen.
One minute she was in my arms, and the next, we were surrounded on all sides by massive quantities of the dead, their ravaging hands reaching for us, the deep soulless eyes penetrating spikes of fear into the core of my very being. We fled, everything was a blur.
And then she was gone.
Just like that, it was all over.
I don’t know how I made it out of there. I don’t remember running, can’t recall fighting to get away, can’t remember anything at all except the sight of her lying there, blood pooling around her, agonized screams, strangely silent as they escaped from her throat, the color draining from her, the dead things ripping into her flesh hungrily. And the pain. The heart-wrenching, soul-crushing PAIN. I remember it exploding in my chest, so poignant and vicious that I could no longer breathe, filling my heart and expanding outwards throughout my entire body, shaking my entire being until nothing else existed. All sounds ceased, the only sign that I was screaming the searing burn of a dying voice in the back of my throat. Everything blurred, my vision shrouded with intangible tears, my body splattered with blood and sorrow, agony washing through the very core of my being like the ebb and flow of a tumultuous sea engulfed in a sudden and violent hurricane.
The next memory I have is of waking up in the back of a truck. Familiar faces were around me, someone’s arm about my back, but I was numb, lacking the energy to place names to faces, lacking the desire to go on, mind blank, soul and very existence… empty… meaningless… alone. The truck bounced along a broken and empty street—forlorn buildings with shattered and missing windows staring at us, reflecting the reality that I had become just as desolate and crestfallen as the world around me had. I was a product of the apocalypse, surviving, like the city, but not living, not experiencing life, simply being a victim to it as it ravages all, just the way things have been since the dawn of time.
All things come to an end. Sometimes, it’s harder to come back from than others. Sometimes, there’s no coming back from it at all. We all lose things, we’re all scarred and broken and we all have our baggage. Everyone has their suffering, their trauma, the dark secrets of their past and the faint memories of stolen joy and crushed dreams. Everyone knows the pangs and grief of loss. No one suffers it the same way, no one feels it the same way, and sometimes people can’t understand what you’re feeling exactly… or at least that’s how it used to be.
Now, everyone is silent.
Everyone in the truck has had someone who meant the world to them, someone who was the only reason they kept on fighting, taken from them. Everyone has lost the most important person they had left. Everyone knows that nothing will ever be the same and that there are no words that can possibly make the situation any better at all. They all know that all that’s left is to wait for the inevitable onset of total numbness and to simply keep going on because we’re all too scared to die.
When I drifted off to an uneasy sleep, it was like waking from a bad dream. She was there, with me. We were together, happy, like we had been. I felt the warm and comforting embrace of her arms, felt the reassurance that everything would be okay, that she wasn’t gone, that life as normal would continue. She kissed me and told me that she loved me, and I returned the sentiment. We enjoyed some of the most fantastic quality time we had ever had. She held me close while I told her all of the things I had always wanted to say but had never gotten around to. She whispered the soft, loving pet names she had for me in my ear, ran her fingers ever so gently through my hair, caressing the dulled aching in my heart with pure kindness and love, filled me with hope and happiness…
The truck bounced, slamming my face roughly against the back windshield of the cab, and ramming my neighbor’s elbow into my side, jarring me from the peaceful dream back into the misery of my new reality, the unwelcoming world in which I’d found myself a permanent resident. I gasped audibly as a flood of tears erupted from my drying eyes, pouring forth in waves of agony that racked my whole body with painful sobbing and unprecedented tragic emotions, converging in the worst physical pain I had ever experienced at any point in my life.
The dreams kept coming, but they were bittersweet. Every time I saw her beautiful, unmarred visage, I knew that I was asleep, I knew that the things I was seeing and experiencing were nothing more than figments of the disconsolate imagination of my fragmented and broken mind, desperately trying in vain to cling onto the one shred of happiness that I had had possession of since the world had ended. When I’d awake from such beautiful nightmares, I’d find myself in all the more tears, everything collapsing again, the pain so fresh as if I’d only just lost her.
The world around me, and the horrors within it, lost all meaning, began to lack depth. I lost the ability to fear, I lost the ability to do anything other than numbly carry on, mourning becoming my way of life as I was desensitized to the violence, destruction, gore and misery around me.
“Seth,” Grant said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual smugness, his form ragged and just as worn down as I felt, his posture sagged and droopy. He, of all people, had never been one to be kind to me, and I did not expect it now. I met his gaze, staring hollowly into his visual orbs, but I did not speak. I wasn’t sure if I could speak. At length the older Brit continued awkwardly, “We’ve arrived at the warehouse we’re going to hole up in for a while. It’s time to get out of the truck.”
“Oh…” I croaked through parched lips that stung when separating, but I didn’t move. I lacked the willpower to get up. After a moment, Grant placed a hand on the truck’s bed and hoisted himself up, plopping down uncomfortably beside me.
“It takes a lot out of you, but you have to keep fighting.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t want you to give up and die, son.”
“What do I have to live for?” I spat, fighting to hold in another vicious bout of tears. Grant sighed and placed a hand awkwardly upon my shoulder. Consequently I looked away, casting my gaze downward at my feet and the grooved bed of the truck.
“You’ve got us. I know it doesn’t make the hurt go away, and this is never going to be okay again; there’s nothing we can do to make it right, mate. But all we’ve got is each other. If you give up, the others will start giving up too. You’re young… you’ve got a lot of fight left in you, if you can just find it.”
Once again, I chose not to respond, remaining silent as I fell back into the depths of my despairing cognitions, unable to find the words to explain to him what I was feeling or that it was impossible for me to find what he spoke of because it was nonexistent. Wallowing in the immeasurable fathoms of loneliness and misery that I had become accustomed to, I lost all sense of time, and in fact didn’t take any note of the fact that he was leaving until he had already long since departed, some inconceivable length of time prior, leaving me wondering at whether or not he had ever come at all or if he had simply been yet another hallucination conjured up by my aching mind in yet another struggle to cope with this disdainfully pathetic existence that I now embodied.
Whether he had been real or not, I pondered his words very carefully, trying to assess myself from another point of view, trying to find strength in myself. I knew I would never stop hurting, and I knew that my feelings for her would never truly fade into that black abyss that had taken my happiness and joy, but… the more I thought about it, the more I knew that Grant (whether fictitious or tangible) did in fact have a point. Nothing I could do would ever change the past. Others had survived the same thing, and so it followed that I would be able to as well. With a choking gasp as my dry throat constricted around the strangely sticky sensation that I’d grown used to, I pressed my hands against the hard metal of the truck bed and began to push myself up. No matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn’t just give in to the grief and die.
One minute she was in my arms, and the next, we were surrounded on all sides by massive quantities of the dead, their ravaging hands reaching for us, the deep soulless eyes penetrating spikes of fear into the core of my very being. We fled, everything was a blur.
And then she was gone.
Just like that, it was all over.
I don’t know how I made it out of there. I don’t remember running, can’t recall fighting to get away, can’t remember anything at all except the sight of her lying there, blood pooling around her, agonized screams, strangely silent as they escaped from her throat, the color draining from her, the dead things ripping into her flesh hungrily. And the pain. The heart-wrenching, soul-crushing PAIN. I remember it exploding in my chest, so poignant and vicious that I could no longer breathe, filling my heart and expanding outwards throughout my entire body, shaking my entire being until nothing else existed. All sounds ceased, the only sign that I was screaming the searing burn of a dying voice in the back of my throat. Everything blurred, my vision shrouded with intangible tears, my body splattered with blood and sorrow, agony washing through the very core of my being like the ebb and flow of a tumultuous sea engulfed in a sudden and violent hurricane.
The next memory I have is of waking up in the back of a truck. Familiar faces were around me, someone’s arm about my back, but I was numb, lacking the energy to place names to faces, lacking the desire to go on, mind blank, soul and very existence… empty… meaningless… alone. The truck bounced along a broken and empty street—forlorn buildings with shattered and missing windows staring at us, reflecting the reality that I had become just as desolate and crestfallen as the world around me had. I was a product of the apocalypse, surviving, like the city, but not living, not experiencing life, simply being a victim to it as it ravages all, just the way things have been since the dawn of time.
All things come to an end. Sometimes, it’s harder to come back from than others. Sometimes, there’s no coming back from it at all. We all lose things, we’re all scarred and broken and we all have our baggage. Everyone has their suffering, their trauma, the dark secrets of their past and the faint memories of stolen joy and crushed dreams. Everyone knows the pangs and grief of loss. No one suffers it the same way, no one feels it the same way, and sometimes people can’t understand what you’re feeling exactly… or at least that’s how it used to be.
Now, everyone is silent.
Everyone in the truck has had someone who meant the world to them, someone who was the only reason they kept on fighting, taken from them. Everyone has lost the most important person they had left. Everyone knows that nothing will ever be the same and that there are no words that can possibly make the situation any better at all. They all know that all that’s left is to wait for the inevitable onset of total numbness and to simply keep going on because we’re all too scared to die.
When I drifted off to an uneasy sleep, it was like waking from a bad dream. She was there, with me. We were together, happy, like we had been. I felt the warm and comforting embrace of her arms, felt the reassurance that everything would be okay, that she wasn’t gone, that life as normal would continue. She kissed me and told me that she loved me, and I returned the sentiment. We enjoyed some of the most fantastic quality time we had ever had. She held me close while I told her all of the things I had always wanted to say but had never gotten around to. She whispered the soft, loving pet names she had for me in my ear, ran her fingers ever so gently through my hair, caressing the dulled aching in my heart with pure kindness and love, filled me with hope and happiness…
The truck bounced, slamming my face roughly against the back windshield of the cab, and ramming my neighbor’s elbow into my side, jarring me from the peaceful dream back into the misery of my new reality, the unwelcoming world in which I’d found myself a permanent resident. I gasped audibly as a flood of tears erupted from my drying eyes, pouring forth in waves of agony that racked my whole body with painful sobbing and unprecedented tragic emotions, converging in the worst physical pain I had ever experienced at any point in my life.
The dreams kept coming, but they were bittersweet. Every time I saw her beautiful, unmarred visage, I knew that I was asleep, I knew that the things I was seeing and experiencing were nothing more than figments of the disconsolate imagination of my fragmented and broken mind, desperately trying in vain to cling onto the one shred of happiness that I had had possession of since the world had ended. When I’d awake from such beautiful nightmares, I’d find myself in all the more tears, everything collapsing again, the pain so fresh as if I’d only just lost her.
The world around me, and the horrors within it, lost all meaning, began to lack depth. I lost the ability to fear, I lost the ability to do anything other than numbly carry on, mourning becoming my way of life as I was desensitized to the violence, destruction, gore and misery around me.
“Seth,” Grant said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual smugness, his form ragged and just as worn down as I felt, his posture sagged and droopy. He, of all people, had never been one to be kind to me, and I did not expect it now. I met his gaze, staring hollowly into his visual orbs, but I did not speak. I wasn’t sure if I could speak. At length the older Brit continued awkwardly, “We’ve arrived at the warehouse we’re going to hole up in for a while. It’s time to get out of the truck.”
“Oh…” I croaked through parched lips that stung when separating, but I didn’t move. I lacked the willpower to get up. After a moment, Grant placed a hand on the truck’s bed and hoisted himself up, plopping down uncomfortably beside me.
“It takes a lot out of you, but you have to keep fighting.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t want you to give up and die, son.”
“What do I have to live for?” I spat, fighting to hold in another vicious bout of tears. Grant sighed and placed a hand awkwardly upon my shoulder. Consequently I looked away, casting my gaze downward at my feet and the grooved bed of the truck.
“You’ve got us. I know it doesn’t make the hurt go away, and this is never going to be okay again; there’s nothing we can do to make it right, mate. But all we’ve got is each other. If you give up, the others will start giving up too. You’re young… you’ve got a lot of fight left in you, if you can just find it.”
Once again, I chose not to respond, remaining silent as I fell back into the depths of my despairing cognitions, unable to find the words to explain to him what I was feeling or that it was impossible for me to find what he spoke of because it was nonexistent. Wallowing in the immeasurable fathoms of loneliness and misery that I had become accustomed to, I lost all sense of time, and in fact didn’t take any note of the fact that he was leaving until he had already long since departed, some inconceivable length of time prior, leaving me wondering at whether or not he had ever come at all or if he had simply been yet another hallucination conjured up by my aching mind in yet another struggle to cope with this disdainfully pathetic existence that I now embodied.
Whether he had been real or not, I pondered his words very carefully, trying to assess myself from another point of view, trying to find strength in myself. I knew I would never stop hurting, and I knew that my feelings for her would never truly fade into that black abyss that had taken my happiness and joy, but… the more I thought about it, the more I knew that Grant (whether fictitious or tangible) did in fact have a point. Nothing I could do would ever change the past. Others had survived the same thing, and so it followed that I would be able to as well. With a choking gasp as my dry throat constricted around the strangely sticky sensation that I’d grown used to, I pressed my hands against the hard metal of the truck bed and began to push myself up. No matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn’t just give in to the grief and die.
Worst Mistake, Best Lesson: show
I never thought I'd have a crush on anyone, but fate had a different plan in mind. I had met him many years beforehand, in the sense of knowing what he looked like and what his name was, but I never formally met him, so I didn't think he knew me. But that changed when we ran into each other at Wal-Mart.
I had been running to get the one item and go back home so I didn't miss the movie marathon of Transformers. I had been turning around the last corner when I ran right into him. I fell backwards onto the tile floor, and cringed in pain.
"Hey, watch it!" he exclaimed, looking sternly at me. That only lasted for a few seconds before he recognized who I was, and his expressions immediately softened. "Oh. It's you. Giselle Thompson, right?" I nodded my head. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I might have a bruise later, but other than that, I'm fine," I answered. "I didn't mean to run into you."
"It's fine," he said. "I don't think we've ever formally met. I'm James Korman."
"Yeah. I know," I said. "I've seen you around in school. But it's nice to officially meet you, James Korman."
"And you as well, Giselle," James remarked. He extended his hand to help me up. I was glad, because my back hurt a lot, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to get up on my own. "So why were you running anyways?"
"I just needed to grab some milk, and the Transformers movies are coming on in about five minutes, so I wanted to try and make it back in time for those," I explained.
"Ah, I see," James said. "Well, I'll, uh, let you go then. It was nice talking to you, Giselle."
"Yeah. It was good," I said. He nodded.
"I'll see you around. Take care. Goodbye," he said, pushing the cart forward.
"Bye," I said, though it came out as a whisper, so I was almost positive he didn't hear it.
As time passed on, I began talking to him more, so long as one of my other friends was talking to him. We never talked one-on-one, though, because he was never alone. But just talking to him in the group was enough for me. Slowly but surely, I began to fall for him. Then there was Amanda, one of the most popular girls in school. She died her hair a different color every season so it would match: white for winter, light green for spring, dark green for summer, and orange for fall. Her natural hair color was brunette, but you wouldn't know if you didn't meet her five years prior, like I had.
James and Amanda would almost always hang out together. Jane, one of my best friends, had told me it was nothing to be worried about, and that James would never fall for a girl like her. I believed her, and would push away any thought of them being together whenever I saw them, because I thought it wasn't true.
Then the big reveal came around. It had started out as the happiest day of my life, but turned out to be the worst.
"Giselle!" James called, running down the hall towards me.
"Oh. Hey, James," I greeted. "What's up?"
"You're coming to the football game tonight, right?" he asked.
"Of course!" I replied. "I wouldn't miss it."
"Great! This is going to be the best game of the year. Can't wait to see you there." He gave me a hug, and then ran down the hall to the classroom. I stood frozen in place for a few minutes, thinking about what just happened. James Korman just gave me a hug! Sure, that wasn't much, but it was still something! I was thrilled.
The rest of the day, I was skipping around giddily to each class. I couldn't stop thinking about it. No boy, besides my dad, had ever hugged me before. It was the greatest feeling.
I was probably cheering the loudest throughout the whole football game. Our high school won 28-7. When the game was over, I ran down onto the field to congratulate him. When I finally got to him, though, I realized what a horrible mistake I had made. Right before my eyes, I saw Amanda kissing James, and he was kissing her back.
After some time, Amanda broke the kiss, but said she would talk to him later. He waved goodbye, and then turned to me.
"Giselle! You made it!" James said. "Did I tell you it was going to be the best game ever or what?"
I nodded. "Yes, you certainly did." A tear streamed down my cheek. I wiped it away as fast as I could, but James saw it beforehand.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I decided not to ruin his happy moment too, so I just nodded.
"Yeah. These are... tears of joy," I said. "Great job. I have to go, but I'll see you around."
"Okay. Bye, Giselle," James said as I turned and left the field. I ran all the way to my car and drove straight home. I didn't want anyone to see me cry.
Once I made it home, I ran up to my room and collapsed on the bed, letting the tears flow. I had been so stupid, falling for someone that I could tell liked someone else. But he was just one of those guys who you couldn't help falling for, and I was another one on the list of girls who had their hearts broken by James.
It was my worst mistake, but it was the best lesson I could have ever learned. Just because you like someone more than just a friend doesn't mean they like you back. And he may not be the one for you anyways. There's someone for everyone. We just have to keep our eyes open and have an open mind. They will come when the time is right.
It took me a whole month to get over him, but I did, and that's more than what could be said about some others. I didn't go back into liking guys until I was a junior in college, though. I didn't want to risk falling for a guy and getting hurt all over again.
Amanda and James are still together to this day, but that's okay. It turned out we wouldn't have been compatible anyways. I found my guy. It just took a mistake like James to find him. I don't regret falling for James, because sometimes you need to make mistakes in order to become more mature. And that's exactly what happened with me.
I had been running to get the one item and go back home so I didn't miss the movie marathon of Transformers. I had been turning around the last corner when I ran right into him. I fell backwards onto the tile floor, and cringed in pain.
"Hey, watch it!" he exclaimed, looking sternly at me. That only lasted for a few seconds before he recognized who I was, and his expressions immediately softened. "Oh. It's you. Giselle Thompson, right?" I nodded my head. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I might have a bruise later, but other than that, I'm fine," I answered. "I didn't mean to run into you."
"It's fine," he said. "I don't think we've ever formally met. I'm James Korman."
"Yeah. I know," I said. "I've seen you around in school. But it's nice to officially meet you, James Korman."
"And you as well, Giselle," James remarked. He extended his hand to help me up. I was glad, because my back hurt a lot, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to get up on my own. "So why were you running anyways?"
"I just needed to grab some milk, and the Transformers movies are coming on in about five minutes, so I wanted to try and make it back in time for those," I explained.
"Ah, I see," James said. "Well, I'll, uh, let you go then. It was nice talking to you, Giselle."
"Yeah. It was good," I said. He nodded.
"I'll see you around. Take care. Goodbye," he said, pushing the cart forward.
"Bye," I said, though it came out as a whisper, so I was almost positive he didn't hear it.
As time passed on, I began talking to him more, so long as one of my other friends was talking to him. We never talked one-on-one, though, because he was never alone. But just talking to him in the group was enough for me. Slowly but surely, I began to fall for him. Then there was Amanda, one of the most popular girls in school. She died her hair a different color every season so it would match: white for winter, light green for spring, dark green for summer, and orange for fall. Her natural hair color was brunette, but you wouldn't know if you didn't meet her five years prior, like I had.
James and Amanda would almost always hang out together. Jane, one of my best friends, had told me it was nothing to be worried about, and that James would never fall for a girl like her. I believed her, and would push away any thought of them being together whenever I saw them, because I thought it wasn't true.
Then the big reveal came around. It had started out as the happiest day of my life, but turned out to be the worst.
"Giselle!" James called, running down the hall towards me.
"Oh. Hey, James," I greeted. "What's up?"
"You're coming to the football game tonight, right?" he asked.
"Of course!" I replied. "I wouldn't miss it."
"Great! This is going to be the best game of the year. Can't wait to see you there." He gave me a hug, and then ran down the hall to the classroom. I stood frozen in place for a few minutes, thinking about what just happened. James Korman just gave me a hug! Sure, that wasn't much, but it was still something! I was thrilled.
The rest of the day, I was skipping around giddily to each class. I couldn't stop thinking about it. No boy, besides my dad, had ever hugged me before. It was the greatest feeling.
I was probably cheering the loudest throughout the whole football game. Our high school won 28-7. When the game was over, I ran down onto the field to congratulate him. When I finally got to him, though, I realized what a horrible mistake I had made. Right before my eyes, I saw Amanda kissing James, and he was kissing her back.
After some time, Amanda broke the kiss, but said she would talk to him later. He waved goodbye, and then turned to me.
"Giselle! You made it!" James said. "Did I tell you it was going to be the best game ever or what?"
I nodded. "Yes, you certainly did." A tear streamed down my cheek. I wiped it away as fast as I could, but James saw it beforehand.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I decided not to ruin his happy moment too, so I just nodded.
"Yeah. These are... tears of joy," I said. "Great job. I have to go, but I'll see you around."
"Okay. Bye, Giselle," James said as I turned and left the field. I ran all the way to my car and drove straight home. I didn't want anyone to see me cry.
Once I made it home, I ran up to my room and collapsed on the bed, letting the tears flow. I had been so stupid, falling for someone that I could tell liked someone else. But he was just one of those guys who you couldn't help falling for, and I was another one on the list of girls who had their hearts broken by James.
It was my worst mistake, but it was the best lesson I could have ever learned. Just because you like someone more than just a friend doesn't mean they like you back. And he may not be the one for you anyways. There's someone for everyone. We just have to keep our eyes open and have an open mind. They will come when the time is right.
It took me a whole month to get over him, but I did, and that's more than what could be said about some others. I didn't go back into liking guys until I was a junior in college, though. I didn't want to risk falling for a guy and getting hurt all over again.
Amanda and James are still together to this day, but that's okay. It turned out we wouldn't have been compatible anyways. I found my guy. It just took a mistake like James to find him. I don't regret falling for James, because sometimes you need to make mistakes in order to become more mature. And that's exactly what happened with me.
