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The rain poured down. Hard rain, flooding the drowning streets. The air was chilly with a bite in the wind. And the rain poured down upon them. He lay in her arms accepting what little comfort and warmth she could provide. She cradled his head, uncaring of the rain and the wind that soaked and chilled her body. His hand trembled in hers and she squeezed his hand tightly, scared to let go. The air was rank with wetness and garbage and rotting debris. Unpleasant. Overwhelming. A smell that they had grown accustomed to. There was the wail of sirens in the background and the slosh of passing cars. Hidden in a remote alley they had ostracized the rest of the world, for the moment. His face was pale, a sickly gray pallor, and her fingers were white from holding too tightly. There was a smile on his face. That gorgeous, determined smile that had always given her courage. Even now his smile inspired her; she still had faith and hope even though the inevitable was clear. Her hair fell to the side, brown and limp from the water, and still he stroked it like her hair was precious, spun silk. She gave him a small, wavering smile and her face glistened with water; rain and tears. It was night time. It was always night time. And they welcomed the black and darkness that covered them like a blanket. No decent, respectable citizen was out at this time safe for the cleaners who were cleansing the streets. They would miss this forgotten alley as they always did. It was the bad part of town. But it was home, for him and for her. They would forget to wash away the stain on the hard, concrete. The blood that filled this alley, this part of town, this world. It didn�t matter if they did forget because the water was already washing the blood away. Diluting the deep crimson until it was the lightest shade of red it would almost be indescribable as red, let alone a color. His hand reached up and cupped her face and their eyes met. �Jo..oo..oey.� He struggled with her name. �Hush.� She murmured. �Don�t speak.� She didn�t want to hear him speak, to hear him say the inevitable words that would put an end to it all. �It�s�imp..por..t..tant�� Another effort. She didn�t want to listen. She didn�t want to know. And yet she couldn�t refuse him a request. So she heard his words, meaningless because she already knew what he was saying. She already knew what he was asking of her. The rain poured down, hard and harsh, in a constant tumble as it beat the earth. �Don�t.� He gasped. �Don�t. Give. Up.� �I won�t.� She promised. The words had taken most of his strength but still he wasn�t finished. �Let go.� �I can�t.� She cried. �Don�t ask me to let go. I can�t.� �You have to.� He smiled weakly at her, his eyes were vacant, distant. They were so far apart and it was an impenetrable distance. Soon he would be gone and she would be all alone. She had no one but him. Yet still he was asking her to let go. He was her best friend. She didn�t want to let go, ever. And yet she knew she must. Already he was so far away and yet she was the only thing that was holding him back. He knew instinctively when she let go, her hands still held him tight as ever and yet she had set him free. She felt him slip away. His hand began to limply fall to his side, no longer warming her face. His hands no longer returned the clasp they had, only moments ago, shared. His eyes were dead. There were the linger remnants of his warmth but rapidly his body was cooling, becoming cold, colder than the rain and the wind. She shivered and her teeth chattered. Her face was wet. One cheek had the bloody imprint of fingers but the rain was washing it away, cleansing. Mark was dead. She was so cold, freezing. And she was alive. Josephine Lillian Potter was still alive. |
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