Out of time

9th February 1979 I trembled as I looked down at my blood smeared hands, my rapid breathing increasing, my head feeling lighter as I struggled to force my breath back to a normal pace. It had all happened so fast,                      ‘not again, please not now’ I said between my deep breaths as I came to terms with what was happening. At least it had been quick, maybe this was a good thing a small blessing in this never ending loop of torture. I recoiled thinking of the past fifty or so deaths the number becoming too high for me to remember the exact amount, the most gruesome of which were in the forefront of my memory. I flinched as the sound of cracking bone replayed through my ears; the memory had been faint, dimmed in my mind from the many years of living saved over it, it was vivid now. Details I had long forgotten been unwontedly recalled. It had been a late summers evening Marcus - as he had been known back then, was escorting me home after a perfect evening at the theatre it had been a favorite pass time of ours back then but sadly the joy it had once made me feel was now tainted with the memories of that evening . It abruptly ended with our k********g; a complication that had occurred during one of his more unfortunate upbringings. Bound, gagged and shoved into the back of some old rusting van. We were tortured for a grueling thirty six hours, all for feeble bits of information on Marcus’s lowlife of a father. The reward for our cooperation and endearment of torture? Our captures kindly put an end to both our lives, first him and then me; that was my curse to see the one that I loved die over and over again and be powerless to stop it. I hated this memory the most: watching those stick bastards break his fingers one by one; their joy at his pain and my screams that it caused; my begging them to stop; the copper smell in the air as the room filled with blood; watching Marcus been stabbed over and over again and worst of all the horror on his face as they started on me. It broke me having to see that look in his eyes. I tried my best to stay quite even when they removed my entire set of finger and toe nails I barely made a sound just to lessen his suffering. I would do anything to make it all better for him but there was nothing I could do; only the two bullets to our skulls could end our pain that night. Lost in the memory I snapped back to reality as James struggled to say my name, mere seconds had passed since I took the unwanted trip down memory lane. I held him close my full attention on him now, I hushed his attempts to speak not wanting him to be in more pain than necessary. I held his hand reassuring him that I was here and it was all going to be alright. He didn’t have long left now, his blood loss had slowed and soon he wouldn’t have enough left to remain conscience, then it would all be over – again! I held back my tears; he always suffered the most when he saw me distraught. I had gotten good at suppressing my pain over the years but this time I struggled I hadn’t been given much time with him, a measly three and half months – only fourteen weeks and five days, it was nothing compared to the eternity of suffering I was doomed to. I took my gaze away from his blood soaked clothes and forced myself to look James in the eyes and savor his beautiful face one last time. I placed a kiss on his precious olive toned skin and stroked my thumb over the freckles that lay on his cheeks only visible to the eye when in close proximity to his face – kissing distance. My vision became blurry with tears as I ran my hand through his thick black hair. Once I’d blinked away the drops my eyes locked with his deep intense brown orbs. He told me he loved me, it was barely a whisper but I heard it. The last words he spoke as the light faded from his eyes. I closed his lids which were a shade darker than the rest of his skin, brushed my finger over his thick long lashes – which I always teased were unfair for a man to posses and placed one final kiss to his beautiful soft plump pink lips. In that moment I felt my world come crashing down the walls caved in on me and I found myself struggling to breath. All the emotion that I had been holding in for the sake of James flooded out of me in waves of hysteria. It got worse every time. I felt that I may finally die just from the grief alone. My heart had been shattered in two and he’d taken the other half with him, leaving me alone in this emptiness. I have no idea how long I led there just cradling his corpse, crying and begging in desperation for this nightmare to be over. I was barely conscience when someone had happened upon us, I had gone completely numb with grief unable to communicate or take in my surroundings, I just led there clinging to him wishing desperately for another minute another second anything but this black hole of depression I found myself in. I was vaguely aware when he was taken from me and as I was lifted into a vehicle to be checked over. The concerned paramedic trying to coax answers out of me but I just sat there cradling my own legs trying to fill the void that his body been taken away from me had just left. The rest was a blur – routine: hospital, doctors, monitors an IV drip, bright lights as torches shone in my eyes trying to receive a response. Then the darkness as I finally passed out from the exhaustion of it all.