White Roses and Lies

White Roses and Lies

I felt my chest rising and falling hard. The air that was once so cold and crisp became warm and soft as she embraced me and the Thespian. Suddenly we were enclosed in what seemed like a space bubble, feeling only the warmth of our breaths and the brushing of our skins.

“Thank you.”

I can only hear a muffled sound as it wafted through the midnight air. Everything was longer than an eternity, and my only fear was letting go of this dream.

“I enjoyed being with you tonight. Thank you.”

The Thespian slid his hand across my back that he’d catch me if I fall. I had nothing to do with my own hands, so I placed one at his side and the other around his arm. I buried my face in his chest, sensing the rise and fall, hearing his every heartbeat. He ran one hand up and down my back then brushed away my hair on one ear. I can hear him breathing hard, as I am. The blank sound of the night dropped and the air became much warmer.

“Annabel.”

He then held the back of my head with both hands. I did not want to, for I knew what was going to happen. I have fallen in love with the Artist for years. There was nothing more wrong than feeling someone other than his touch. Calm refused to consume me in my thirst for it. Through the darkness, I can sense the Artist’s eyes on me, begging to make the swirling stop, his eyes spilling with crimson and his arms slowly turning into dust. I shook the horrid image of the man I love and buried my face harder on the Thespian’s chest. The night sky felt as though it has never been darker.

We held for what seemed an eternity.

Not long ago, I promised the Artist my life and my heart, for an eternity of bliss and serenity. He then vowed to watch over me, us, not letting harm near me, for he told me wanted me most. I, too, wanted him, loved him for who he was. It was that night, that long, warm night that brought me to another world of reality. For years I was convinced with the idea of pain and pain only, and that was my reality. But the Artist, so delicately, introduced me to a place where only he and I exist. The warmth he made me feel was simply so beautiful, a hope that saved me from the edge of insanity. Whatever it was, I was never letting go of it. That night we held, and waited for the sun to kiss our eyes to a new day. I could still feel his arms around me, the touch of his lips on my skin, the smile that made me drag the cold steel across my wrist…

“Annabel.”

Quick as the gust of cold air around us, I returned to my senses. It seemed that I was leaning heavily on the Thespian, while I was immersed in all my reminiscence and deep thought. I stepped away from him, though he did not let go of my hand. I deemed he was also in deep contemplation, but was more attentive to what was happening in the real world than I was.

“Will you let this night end?”

I stared into his eyes, hoping to find the answer to the murders of my thoughts. I searched his soft gaze for something, anything that would comfort me and my fears. Have I gone blind, or worse, insane? Have I been deceiving myself too long? I started to feel cold tears welling around my eyes when I felt a breeze so familiar that I took the Thespian and embraced him again.

It was this same cold air that blew the hair off my face as I stroked the Artist’s hair, leaving crimson streaks from my blood soaked fingertips. Calloused hands that were stiffly around my neck not long ago made their way to touch my cheek. He smiled his deceitful smile, filling me with guilt and thirst that only pain can satisfy. I knew, I believed, it was never my fault. The skies were so promising that I did not realize how grave the consequences were. Was it wrong to long for something I had, let go and wanted again? The facts were so hollow, so empty… does that make me a sinner? Was I responsible? But I only loved…

The birds at my window sill were crying as if they can feel my misery. I pushed the dagger away, leaving a trail of blood on the wooden floor. He laughed. I can still feel his voice echoing inside me, twisting my thoughts, corrupting my motives and finally shaking the whole of me. I glanced at the mirror. Oh, the visions… It wasn’t me. It was a different girl, staring right through me with bloodshot eyes, embracing the only man I’ve ever loved. Her hands were drenched in blood that was once his, her hair all tangled and her clothes almost torn. She was sobbing gently as her lover slowly surrendered to the inevitable death.

The moment I opened my eyes again, I was screaming. Whatever it was, it was tearing me apart. I could not live in remorse. The heart he promised to beat for me for so long finally calmed and I dragged him, hid him from the eyes of ravens. Tears mixed with blood and sweat were the last to touch his cold, pale skin as I sealed the wooden box where he lay. Someone so treacherous did not deserve this, I thought. But again, he was the only one I’ve ever dreamed of, and if I could, I’d still follow him to the ends of the earth. I was crying, and I fell into slumber, on top of the Artist’s coffin.

I found myself standing in a bedroom, barefooted, feeling the unfamiliar touch of the Artist’s wooden floor. The dress I was wearing was still stained, though unnoticeable through the bare lighting from the single fixture. I slumped down the foot of the bed, already filled with immeasurable remorse and hate and agony. The dark started to fade while little sunstreaks seeped through shuttered windows. I ran away from the place.

It should’ve been forgotten. Lies could’ve been easily used like puzzles and contraptions over secrets. For what it was worth, it came back in its most tragic form: a reminder of what can and might be. He may be gone, but his memory is as fresh and it torments my very self. How can love, something so beautiful, turn on you and haunt you until the day you can feel? Clearly I must be daft, but what I speak of is true.

I felt my chest rising and falling hard. The air that was once so cold and crisp became warm and soft as she embraced me and the Thespian. I looked into his eyes. Is it worth risking? Without another word, I turned around, ran fast away from the nightmare I can easily become and disappeared through the night.