Where I'm Going

I don’t exactly know where I’m going, but I’ve been going there for some time now. Seasons have risen and fallen, friends have drifted through and faded away, memories have been forged and then forgotten. I float adrift an ocean of uncertainty; people and places flowing and ebbing from my life. The only thing of which I can be sure is that I now know just how cruel humanity can be.

As with all great tragedies, mine began by falling in love. Caught in the terrible transition from boy to man, I had all the idiotic optimism of youth, mingling with the insufferable arrogance of manhood. A heady and dangerous combination which, at the time, made me feel invincible and on reflection makes me wish I could tear out my memories and burn them, one excruciating recollection at a time. But if I did that, I would have to erase all traces of the girl who led me to what I am today and that, I could never do.

Sophie Appleton was a glittering jewel atop a pile of ash, a resplendent rainbow amidst a deluge of monochrome, a radiant angel among a mass of faceless fools. The only way to dazzle such a creature was to become her everything.

So that year I erased Tommy Sinclair and became Sophie Appleton’s ideal man. I was obsessed, my whole being compressed into a single intention – to possess this girl. At first she barely noticed me but soon I caught her attention; a look thrown sharply over her shoulder or a coy glance from beneath her thick lashes. The moment to act had arrived and so I began to court her in earnest. Every morning I left a dozen red roses on her doorstep, every afternoon I walked her home from college, every evening I sat outside her house, just waiting for a glimpse of her beautiful, chestnut curls. Eventually she would speak to me, eventually we would be together.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. The roses began wilting on the porch, Sophie no longer walked home from college, and the Appletons started closing their curtains in the evening. She was slowly slipping away from me. Grief stricken I started writing long letters to her, pouring all my love and longing into them. Finally I received one in return. Holding it delicately in my hands I imagined the wondrous possibilities of its contents. A love letter declaring her undying devotion to me perhaps, or an apology for her cruel treatment of me; I would forgive her in a heartbeat if so. I ripped it open. The letters formed words I recognised, but the meaning didn’t make sense- a restraining order? Terrible words were leaping off the page and panic was threatening to overwhelm me but only one clear thought managed to surface. I had to see her. I would die if I didn’t see her.

Driving to her house I barely registered the buildings flashing past. How could she do this to me? Didn’t she understand how much I loved her? I’d kill for her. I’d die for her. I was her, and she was me. She was the oxygen that kept my heart beating, the life that filled my veins and I was damned if I was going to lose her.

Screeching to a halt outside her house I stumble from the car and hammer on her door. Someone is screaming I think, but it’s hard to tell over the sound of her name which I am shouting over and over in time to the blows my fists make on the door. Suddenly it flies open and her father is stood in the doorway, a baseball bat clenched in his fist. He swings it hard and it cracks against my chest, Sophie’s name dying in my throat. It comes again and I half turn, the edge of it glancing off the side of my head. I catch a glimpse of her face behind his figure, wide eyed and beautiful and it is all I need. When the next blow comes I am ready for it and I let it sail past me, bouncing off the door frame. The force of his swing tips Sophie’s father off balance, and I use the moment to grab his skull and smash it hard, three times, against the wall.

He slumps to the ground and I enter the house, moving swiftly towards the last place I saw Sophie’s face. She is standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down her face, a knife clutched in her hand. She looks…scared.

“It’s okay Sophie, it’s only me. I just need to talk to you.”

She is tensed as if to run but I know I can’t let her go like this. I must make her understand but her eyes are darting to the possible escape routes and my head is pounding from the bat. If I could just gather my thoughts I know I could convince her to put the knife down. I take a step towards her and she starts pleading with me.

"Please Tommy, please just let me go."

The sound of my name on her lips is heaven.

"You're sick, Tommy. You need help."

She sounds so worried, her voice so full of emotion. For me.

"If they find you here they'll lock you away. If you leave now then everything can be forgotten. We'll pretend this never happened. Just please, go."

Wait, this isn't right. Why does she want me to leave her? We can be together now. Forever. But even as thoughts of our future begin to form, the image of her father flashes into my mind, slumped in the hallway, his skull bloodied and misshapen. Unease seeps into me, if she sees him...no, she can't. She's still speaking and her words are making it so hard to think. If she would just be quiet for one minute, just stop her incessant noise, just shut up, shut up,

"SHUT UP!"

I lunge for her, grabbing her wrist. She's screaming in my ear, piercing my eardrums, so I hit her in the chest but she won't stop screaming, and so I hit her again and again and again until she is silent. Somehow, we have ended up on the floor and my hands and face are all wet and when I open my eyes all I can see is red.

As my vision clears I realise I am clutching the knife in my hand. I force myself to look at Sophie and bile rushes up into my throat, hot and thick with horror. My beautiful Sophie, she is broken, a shattered doll, lifeless and empty. I hold her limp body to my chest, whispering into her ear, letting my tears fall onto her perfect face.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Sophie."

I can hear sirens coming ever closer. They will not take her away from me. We can still be together. I will find her again. I kiss her softly on the forehead, then take the knife and plunge it into the shattered remains of my heart.

Many years have passed since that night and still I have not found her. And so I wander through the winding paths of the afterlife, searching for my love, not knowing where I am going. In the darkest hours of the night, I sometimes wonder if I am forever fated to walk alone, never to be at peace, never to lie with my beloved; my glittering jewel, my resplendent rainbow, my radiant angel. My Sophie Appleton.