Short Story: Two Hearts As One
Digging around the old archives again. CS Midterms tomorrow, but I don't want to study... Not yet, anyway.
Two Hearts As One
Written By: Kaze
Date Written: March 21, 2003
Light... Blinding light flashed in the darkness of the room... The surgery had begun...
She was sleeping in the surgery room, deeply breathing, not feeling a thing. Anesthesia was administered, though from her face, it did not look that she didn't feel the pain. From her appearance, in her subconscious, she was crying, down and burdened. Crying for support.
Outside the sterile room, I wasn't in a paradise myself. Deep inside, I wanted to be there, hold her hand, reassure her that everything will be alright, although I was clouded by a fog of confusion and uneasiness. I couldn't sleep at all, eyes wide open, trying to listen to events inside. Silently, I held my breath, in an isolation, in stasis, hoping to get out witnessing her smile sweetly against the grim atmosphere of the surgery room.
Silence. I couldn't take it anymore. I bashed my hand against the walls, blaming myself for what had happened, then bashed it more. I felt a mental surge of being that stopped me from crushing my hand against the walls, a force that was akin to the firm clasp of her hands on my arm, her strength focused on putting a halt on my self-destruction. For an instant, I saw her behind me, holding my arm back from bashing it more, her eyes welled up in water...
I released the anger in my arms, and silently relaxed it to my sides. I saw her wipe off the tears, smile, and comfort me in a smug embrace. After which, she flickered away.
It all came back to me. She didn't want me to hurt myself, ever. She'd always go and check up on me when I got hurt, got sick, even fussing over little band-aids I had on equally little cuts. Her smile would often take the pain away. I looked at my hand, bleeding. I didn't mind the pain. I didn't even feel it. It was all because of her.
I paced around the room, trying to be calm. The comfortable sofas in the room were inviting me, as well as my memories, which rushed out. In a sofa, we tried to watch a movie, but she drifted off to sleep, her head on my shoulder. Continued on to watch, careful not to disturb her in her slumber...
I gladly sat down. Tried to read a newspaper, draw, hum a few tunes, all leading in a road of futility.
Rummaging through the stuff I brought, I brought out a CD player to listen. It played music from our prom... Us dancing in the middle of the crowd in the melodies of songs we liked to sing. We sang along as we stepped on the floor in an unmatched synergy that was noticed by many.
The hours seemed like days.
A light went off. The surgery was over.
They rushed her out, gloves stained by her blood. They rushed her to her room. I followed with all my things.
She was placed in bed in a private room in the hospital. I laid down all my things, grabbed the chair in the room, stayed by her side, and held her hand, thanking God that she was still with me. The look of fear in her face became a calm expression the moment I held her hand firmly, and after a few seconds, she smiled.
I finally found peace. By her side, I slept, tears in my eyes, filled with joy in the fact that I was with her, and she was smiling once again.
=====O=====
Darkness... Darkness of isolation... Isolation from a world that had no care, no pity, no remorse.
In a corner of her mind, she wept. Wept tears of loneliness, pain, in seeing no one to comfort her.
A voice called. She swung her head to the familiar voice. The voice was inviting her to a place of peace and solitude. A voice that was quickly dissipating as it fought with haunting echoes of melancholy.
She stood up and ran towards the voice... As she did so, she cried tears of joy, knowing that someone was there. And, that incited her mind to show her memories... Of her crying, of him taking a handkerchief and softly wiped her tears out of her eyes, after which she would always smile and hold his hand...
She stopped and looked around, swinging her long hair with every motion. She remembered everytime he would always stroke her hair, one time even accidentally pulling one out which resulted to an instant red face for him from her slaps... She smirked, but it faded away as she sought for the voice...
Thinking of stopping for a rest, she immediately halted and took a few deep doses of air to refresh herself. Just like in that marathon... "Wait! I have to rest first!" she said, stopping. He ran back to her, jogging in place when he affixed himself next to her. "What are you doing?" she asked. With a reassuring hand he offered, he said, "Waiting for you."
After looking at the memory with fondness, she saw a light. She stood up and ran towards it... The light highlighted something... As she got closer, she saw him again, offering her that same hand, and the words "Waiting for you..." were filling the air. She smiled, and took the helping hand...
She slowly opened her eyes, seeing the white ceiling, the mellow glow of the sun outside, shaded by the venetian blinds on the windows, feeling a warm, inviting, somehow familiar grip on her hands. She looked at her hand, to find him sleeping by her side, holding her hand. She held his hand too... And whispered her thanks in the air before finally going to sleep.
Two Hearts As One
Written By: Kaze
Date Written: March 21, 2003
Light... Blinding light flashed in the darkness of the room... The surgery had begun...
She was sleeping in the surgery room, deeply breathing, not feeling a thing. Anesthesia was administered, though from her face, it did not look that she didn't feel the pain. From her appearance, in her subconscious, she was crying, down and burdened. Crying for support.
Outside the sterile room, I wasn't in a paradise myself. Deep inside, I wanted to be there, hold her hand, reassure her that everything will be alright, although I was clouded by a fog of confusion and uneasiness. I couldn't sleep at all, eyes wide open, trying to listen to events inside. Silently, I held my breath, in an isolation, in stasis, hoping to get out witnessing her smile sweetly against the grim atmosphere of the surgery room.
Silence. I couldn't take it anymore. I bashed my hand against the walls, blaming myself for what had happened, then bashed it more. I felt a mental surge of being that stopped me from crushing my hand against the walls, a force that was akin to the firm clasp of her hands on my arm, her strength focused on putting a halt on my self-destruction. For an instant, I saw her behind me, holding my arm back from bashing it more, her eyes welled up in water...
I released the anger in my arms, and silently relaxed it to my sides. I saw her wipe off the tears, smile, and comfort me in a smug embrace. After which, she flickered away.
It all came back to me. She didn't want me to hurt myself, ever. She'd always go and check up on me when I got hurt, got sick, even fussing over little band-aids I had on equally little cuts. Her smile would often take the pain away. I looked at my hand, bleeding. I didn't mind the pain. I didn't even feel it. It was all because of her.
I paced around the room, trying to be calm. The comfortable sofas in the room were inviting me, as well as my memories, which rushed out. In a sofa, we tried to watch a movie, but she drifted off to sleep, her head on my shoulder. Continued on to watch, careful not to disturb her in her slumber...
I gladly sat down. Tried to read a newspaper, draw, hum a few tunes, all leading in a road of futility.
Rummaging through the stuff I brought, I brought out a CD player to listen. It played music from our prom... Us dancing in the middle of the crowd in the melodies of songs we liked to sing. We sang along as we stepped on the floor in an unmatched synergy that was noticed by many.
The hours seemed like days.
A light went off. The surgery was over.
They rushed her out, gloves stained by her blood. They rushed her to her room. I followed with all my things.
She was placed in bed in a private room in the hospital. I laid down all my things, grabbed the chair in the room, stayed by her side, and held her hand, thanking God that she was still with me. The look of fear in her face became a calm expression the moment I held her hand firmly, and after a few seconds, she smiled.
I finally found peace. By her side, I slept, tears in my eyes, filled with joy in the fact that I was with her, and she was smiling once again.
=====O=====
Darkness... Darkness of isolation... Isolation from a world that had no care, no pity, no remorse.
In a corner of her mind, she wept. Wept tears of loneliness, pain, in seeing no one to comfort her.
A voice called. She swung her head to the familiar voice. The voice was inviting her to a place of peace and solitude. A voice that was quickly dissipating as it fought with haunting echoes of melancholy.
She stood up and ran towards the voice... As she did so, she cried tears of joy, knowing that someone was there. And, that incited her mind to show her memories... Of her crying, of him taking a handkerchief and softly wiped her tears out of her eyes, after which she would always smile and hold his hand...
She stopped and looked around, swinging her long hair with every motion. She remembered everytime he would always stroke her hair, one time even accidentally pulling one out which resulted to an instant red face for him from her slaps... She smirked, but it faded away as she sought for the voice...
Thinking of stopping for a rest, she immediately halted and took a few deep doses of air to refresh herself. Just like in that marathon... "Wait! I have to rest first!" she said, stopping. He ran back to her, jogging in place when he affixed himself next to her. "What are you doing?" she asked. With a reassuring hand he offered, he said, "Waiting for you."
After looking at the memory with fondness, she saw a light. She stood up and ran towards it... The light highlighted something... As she got closer, she saw him again, offering her that same hand, and the words "Waiting for you..." were filling the air. She smiled, and took the helping hand...
She slowly opened her eyes, seeing the white ceiling, the mellow glow of the sun outside, shaded by the venetian blinds on the windows, feeling a warm, inviting, somehow familiar grip on her hands. She looked at her hand, to find him sleeping by her side, holding her hand. She held his hand too... And whispered her thanks in the air before finally going to sleep.