My Tourniquet

Gone. He was gone. Never coming back. Dennis was dead. My hands awash with his blood, he had died in my arms. And aside from the nights when I awoke screaming at the top of my lungs, crying out to "keep your eyes open sweetheart" as an icy sweat feverishly burnt my face; I was yet to believe I would never see him again. I knew it was true, of course I did, there was a gaping hole in my life, my heart ached to the point of searing pain when it was that I awoke and dully registered his absence.... when for a few sweet seconds I forgot that he was dead.

I had refused to leave the home where Dennis had drawn his last breath. The living room, though thoroughly cleaned, remained exactly as it was. I had thrown a fit of hysteria when Chrissie had dutifully attempted to move from the floor the glass that Dennis had drunk from that fateful night. It stayed exactly as it was.

Struggling through the first few days following his death, I had submerged myself in my work, but slowly, I crumbled; escaping everyone and everything back to the room where I had cradled my lover as he slipped away.

Dot was devestated; Zoe had howled like a baby. I ignored it all, so so numb, stumbling across the Square back towards Number 5; despite Chrissie pleading that I take up a room in the hotel in which she and Vicki were staying.

Kicking off my shoes in the hall, I pad out to take a bottle of wine from the fridge. Going back to the living room, I pause in the doorway, taking a deep yet nervous breath to compose myself before I step into the room. my eyes remain open, yet I still see the pools of deep red blood upon the floor, half sunken into the dark carpet. I still see Dennis, dying upon the floor.

The grief I'm experiencing is crippling me from the inside. I have yet to be seen crying for my loss outside of this room. I cry only here, curled up in the spot I remember so starkly had belonged to the biggest collection of blood. Whimpering, I close my eyes, desperate not to see, or to remember. I pull my knees up to my chest and try to fight back the first wave of tears.

I rock myself gently backwards upon the spot, the sensation of Dennis' blood soaking into my clothing feeling so horribly real. A dark haze I cannot struggle through invades my mind. I have no strength to fight it, so instead concentrate on the heavy confusion, the pain. How was I meant to go on alone?

I told you I couldn't do this Dennis. I think bitterly to myself, fat tears warming my cheeks as they descend. I can't be alone.

I choose to torture myself, envisaging his handsome face. His emerald eyes twinkle with a warm mischief; crinkles appear as he smiles. My stomach tightens with a feeling of nausea. I will never see that smile again.

From somewhere, still picturing Dennis, his lips, soft if I recall them correctly, begin to move, releasing a soft murmur as he speaks. And I can hear him.

"You're not alone Sharon."

"But I am. I miss you so much."

And the smile fades, the sparkle in his eyes seems to die out.

"I miss you too."

"Come back. Please. I want you back."

"I can't. Not now. Sorry."

I tried to kill the pain
And only brought more
I lay dying
And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal.
I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming
Am I too lost to be saved?
Am I too lost?

"My darlin'.... did it hurt?"

"No, not at all. I had a worse time when I was Vicki's pin cushion. How is she, the little squirt?"

"Misses you."

He smiles weakly.

"I told you not to cry Sharon. None of you should cry."

"We can't help it. We love you Dennis. We need you here."

"I know, I know. And I'm here. Always will be."

He pauses.

"Wish you wouldn't sit there Sharon.... the blood...."

"Can you still see it?"

"Yes."

"D-Dennis?"

"Sharon?"

"I understand now. I understand the pain you felt-"

He runs his tongue along his lip nervously, shaking his head.

"I didn't do what I did to hurt you. I did it because I couldn't take it anymore. I ruined the life I had.... I lost you- I wasn't anyone after that. It seemed like-"

"Your only option?"

"Something like that. But I'm a coward darlin', remember that."

I nod solemnly, taking in his words. His voice is like honey, warm and soothing at a time when I need it most. I take up the bottle of wine and shakily pour it into the glass I have been so determined will stay on the floor. I lift it up to my mouth.

"No! Sharon, don't drink from that glass. It's covered in.... in my blood. Please don't let it touch your lips baby."

"Why not? I have tasted your blood Dennis- the night you di-" I falter and instead drink heavily from the glass.

"The kiss." Dennis murmurs, something taking over his eyes that makes him appear content to remember that moment. "You took away a lot of the pain then Sharon. Thanks."

"H-Had to. I.... love.... you." I manage, before dissolving into tears, and Dennis' stricken features dissolving from my mind.

My God, my tourniquet
Return to me, salvation
My God, my tourniquet
Return to me, salvation

The sobs tear through me for several minutes, wracking through my entire body until my head hurts and I think I may heave. Pushing the tears away and gulping back impending sobs, I slowly open my eyes.

And Dennis is sat as I am, mere inches away from me, his arms casually slung around his leg as he draws his knees closer. He is not just a face in my mind's eye. He sits there in all entirety. I however know that this is no cruel dream. His arms still show the wounds he carved into his flesh just nights ago. He is still dead.

Yet he still sits there watching me, a deeply saddened concern capturing his face. To speak to him seems the most natural thing I could do. I open my mouth, yet only a strangled sound escapes. I am too captivated but simultaneously repulsed by the wounds I have been haunted by since the night he left.

"Don't look." he advises softly.

"What are you doing here?" I blurt, jumping nervously at hearing again the voice I have missed so much.

He shrugs. "All I know is I'm here for you. I'm here to do whatever you need me to."

"Stay. Forever, like you promised me."

"Sharon please-" he whispers, looking away. "I'm dead-"

"I know." I answer tersely. "I was the one holding you remember?"

"Won't ever forget now darlin'. Can promise you that."

"No..... screw your promises Dennis.... you promised me a future. That's all I want from you. But you can't give me it can you?"

He hangs his head. "No."

"What can you give me? Can.... can you even touch me?"

"I don't know. I don't know what will happen."

"Then do it. Touch me."

And I stare defiantly into that beautiful face. Nervously he lifts his bloody hand and his fingertips brush for just a fleeting moment across my moistened cheek.

Fiercely I seize his hand, overwhelmed with curiousity due to the fact this is a ghost, perhaps a figment of my desperate imagination. What will happen when I touch him? Will I sink straight through him like he is simply pearly air?

But no, flesh meets flesh. Dennis feels as real as he would if he were alive. Tremoring, I turn my head and press my lips against his bunched fingers. I hear him wince uneasily as the metallic taste of blood hits my tongue. I drink it in gratefully. My darlin' is really here.

I push myself into his arms, and he folds himself around me, gasping contently, burying his face in my hair. I begin to cry again.

Do you remember me?
So lost for so long.
Will you be on the other side?
Or will you forget me?

"I watched you die. I-I f....felt it.... you know I never wanted to see that again.... you've left me here.... why did you leave me?"

"Because.... because.... because it was destroying me. I lost you, I was less than nothing.... I didn't deserve to still be here...."

"You begged me to let you go-" I whimper through my tears. "How could you let me watch you leave?"

"I don't know...." he whispers back pathetically, his fingers moving through my hair, pulling me closer as I nestle against him. "I'm so sorry.... I always was a selfish prick.... but it drove me insane. I wanted to go, and I needed you.... there..... to say goodbye."

"We- me and you - we won't say goodbye. Ever."

"You'll move on from me sweetheart. I promise you."

"But I don't want to. I want to stay with you."

"You can't. Even Tom agrees with me."

My spine stiffens and I blink back tears, startled. "Tom?"

"Yes, Tom. He's fine you know. Thinks about you a lot... was glad to meet me, glad to know you'd.... fallen in love again..... not so pleased you were alone again, but no-one was ever gonna be happy about that-" his voice waivers, "and I... I want you to be happy Sharon; that's all I ever wanted. Everyone dies, but life keeps going. Fall in love again. Find someone to make you happy."

"But that's you."

"No." he speaks sternly. "Move on."

"Can't. Won't." I hiss like a perpetulant child.

He shushes me, rocking me gently. "This is what matters darlin'. I wish it could be like this always."

"Take me with you. Take the pain away."

He shivers underneath me, taking steady breaths, even though he no longer possesses the need to breathe. "No pain Sharon, never meant to cause pain...."

"But you left me here, what did you expect? Dennis, please.... you can't leave me here-"

"I don't have a choice."

Instinctively he holds me tighter, but a feeling of sickness sweeps over me. I can't be left here, not again. I need him.

"What do I have to do to stay with you?" I murmur.

My God, my tourniquet
Return to me, salvation
My God, my tourniquet
Return to me, salvation

Dennis does not meet my eye, looks away, blanching his lip. "I won't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you. I need to protect you from-"

"From loss? Too late darlin'. From pain? I'm feeling it, I'm feeling it so bad I want to cut myself open."

"Stop it, please!" And he casts his eyes guiltily down like he'd rather do anything else in the world than speak right now. "I need to protect you from.... from love." 

The confusion casts a darker haze into my mind. "Wha-?"

Then I realise; my own gaze dropping to the brutual, bloody open gashes across Dennis' arms, the announcement of hurt and desperation that will mark him forever. I must die too.

"No Sharon, no." he insists desperately, realising I have understood him.

But I don't hear his words, or the desperation that mixes with them. My mind buzzes. How? How will I die?

But it is in my mind already. I take up my wine and drink the most part of what remains. Then I wriggle in Dennis' lax embrace, lifting the glass to his lips. He is reluctant to sip. "Forget the blood," I whisper, knowing it probably haunts him, that he tastes it. "For us Dennis-"

"Sharon, I can't let you do this-"

I throw the glass to the floor and obediently it shatters; an exhilaration exploding inside me as I pick up the largest shard. I will do exactly as my lover did before me.

I shiver brilliantly, adrenaline pulsing through me, my blood almost singing for me to release it. 

Dennis has tensed behind me. "Why are you doing this to yourself? You could have so much-"

"I want you." I tell him determinedly.

"But the pain.... Sharon.... baby, there is nothing like it.... I can't watch you in that pain."

"I watched you Dennis....I'm doing this because I love you."

His damaged fingers curl around the shard and he tries to pull it from my grasp. "Because you love me?" he repeats. "Then I can't let you do it."

"Why not?" I seethe, not releasing my hold on the glass.

"Because love dies. It's no reason to die yourself, trust me."

"But you-"

"I know!" he snaps. "And you think I don't regret it? Sharon I can barely feel you lying here, or feel you touch me, and I hate it. I want to be here like you are- please, don't throw it away like I did."

"B-B-But, I need you."

"You don't need the pain."

I gnaw my lip, slowly going over our conversation tonight, unable to push away the feeling of injustice.

"I held you as you died Dennis. I held you." 

"I know."

"Then do the same for me. You hold me, or you go back wherever it was you came and I will act as if I never cared. Only... I know you'll know that isn't true.... spend your eternity living with that fact if you like, torture yourself to a second death.... or let me come with you, and give me my forever."

And he looks devestated at the choice I have laid in front of him, his mesmerising eyes brimming with glassy tears, his lips twisted in what I already recognise as defeat. He meant his promise to me that Christmas afternoon and I know that even in death he will not be able to bring himself to break it. He holds out his arms and I lie back against him, the shard of glass raised readily above my wrist. Again, he murmurs "You don't need the pain," but I ignore him. I will live.... or rather; die, with the pain.

I drag the shard quickly across my wrist, a thin line on blood already stinging protectively in its wake. I try and ignore the pain, although somewhere in my mind it is present, a bitter stinging sensation that feels as if I am being pulled apart slowly by the end of a spear. I whimper and gasp in pain as I turn my attentions to the other wrist.... I will do this right.

I whimper and Dennis buries his face in my hair again, kissing my head over and over as a way of soothing me, his eyes however squeezed shut.

My blood trickles slowly in all directions across my arm as I continue to saw. Some of the dark heavy liquid pools on the floor, and Dennis winces as he hears it land with a splatter, recalling his own experiences all too well.

"Nearly over baby, so nearly over." he whispers breathlessly to me.

My breath seems to struggle leave my chest and I start to feel as if I may explode amongst the pain, and I am now crying out in agony, squirming against Dennis' embrace, but he holds me steady.

And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal.
I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming
Am I too lost to be saved?
Am I too lost?

"I'll give you forever. I promise." he breathes. "Be brave gorgeous."

Tears, stinging like the blood swimming from my now wider wounds, cascade down my cheeks. I writhe, yet never cease to give up the sawing action whilst I feel breath still in my body. I do not lose sight of why I am allowing myself to suffer so.

"Take me away!" I plead again, screaming desperately this time. "Take the pain away!"

I want to die!

I feel Dennis move forwards, and the next thing I am aware of are his lips, still soft as I had indeed remembered them, against my own, a whisper of a kiss, and I feel a stabbing regret that he does not feel it too. I answer him however, tasting his blood once more. Although I know he does not speak, from somewhere, I hear Dennis' voice.

"The kiss. You took away a lot of the pain then Sharon. Thanks."

And then....

"I'll take the pain Sharon.... I'll make it better darlin'. Love you."

Though I do not feel it, I hear the shard of glass clink against the floor. I have released it; I am weaker, left with only the sticky sensation of my blood on my palm. I raise the hand and the wound stretches slightly, resulting in a sharp piercing pain I lose in Dennis' kiss as more blood escapes. I watch it, such a brilliant scarlet and then draw the hand into Dennis' hair, willing him to draw the pain from me still. Such a soft release. Such a sense of blistering relief and tranquility washes over me.

"Thank you."
"We're not done yet Sharon." 

Dennis pulls back from me, catching my hand and sadly examining my new weeping wounds.

I'm confused. There is no pain, only peace.... surely this is Death?

Gently, Dennis spends time, as I rest against him, winding his his hand around each of my wrists, as though bandaging them with an invisible fabric. Slowly, the blood disappears. I goggle at the milky white skin that has been left behind, and Dennis chuckles.

"I couldn't let you be marked like I am Sharon. I had to take it away. You didn't shed blood because you're a selfish prick like I am.... you did it because you love me. Thank you."

My God, my tourniquet
Return to me, salvation
My God, my tourniquet
Return to me, salvation

My mind is now unburdened of worry and fear. It is crystal clear and the only thing I can see is Dennis and I, stood back at the flat, on the night we first slept together. Dennis spoke first, ahhh yes we'd had been in the middle of a brilliant fight. One now only to be remembered with a great deal of amusement and affection. That argument brought me to Dennis and I am forever grateful.

"You're thirty-three years old. You dress like a widow. You act like one too."

"THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS DEAD!" I had yelled, infuriated.

"Who are we talking about here?"

"Tom!"

"He wasn't the love of your life. Nowhere near it. If he hadn't died, he'd have only ended up borin' you to death."

"You didn't know 'im!"

"No, but I know you. I won't bore you. I'll be better for you than any of them."

Dennis had been quizzicial that night. He'd really wanted to understand how I loved and he had wanted to show me how much he really loved me. Maybe I'm meant to think it has all gone horribly wrong to have ended up where I am now, but how can I? 

The love of my life is dead, dead because of a love we shared, but I am here with him. Forever. And I mean it.

My wounds cry for the grave
My soul cries for delieverance
Will I be denied Christ?
Tourniquet
My suicide

The End