I watched my hands in the dark, tracing the outline of my fingers with my eyes. The knuckles on my right hand were deep red and purple, like storm clouds in August. My eyes had been adjusted to the low light for a few hours now and I could see the tiny cuts on the back on my hand. I imagined my skin was a desert and the cuts were gorges in the rock. In my mind I am running through the desert and the rocks, thirsty for water, are cracking under my feet. With each rushed step the ground splits, dust exploding into the air like a dying star. Suddenly I'm not running any more. I'm flying through the sky. Then I see the walls ahead of me and I realise I'm falling down a gorge.
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Isn't it funny how the rain is hammering us into the ground down here, but above those clouds there’s a blue sky? I have to tip toe over these glossy rocks otherwise I’ll slip and drop you, my angel.
I lost you tonight. At first I couldn't think. Now I can think again and I think I know what to do; I've got to return you to heaven. While I'm doing that I need to take myself to Hell because I just couldn't protect you.
The air is running its clammy fingers through my hair, tugging at me as I walk. The wind is trying to pull me back; it’s crying for us. I'm sure the rain is hardening to ice on my cheeks. There are chips of snow in your hair, dotting your dark curls with bright white crystals. You look just as innocent and pure as the day I met you: a tragedy wrapped up in the body of an angel.
We have to stop now. I'm looking around and I wish you could see the beauty surrounding you. This is your home. This was always going to be where you belong. There isn't anything else here with us. I can just about hear the waves crashing in their eternal rage down below us. Slowly, I kiss your forehead. I remember when you caught the flu two years ago, just before Christmas, and I kissed your forehead because you were upset. It was red and fiery that time. Your skin burnt my lips. Now your forehead is colder than our room was that winter.
“I'm so sorry I forgot to lock the door.” I whisper into your hair. It’s wet with glistening droplets of snow and rain. I take one last look at the grey sky above us and wonder, isn't it funny how the rain is hammering us into the ground down here, but above those clouds there’s a blue sky? And then I step off the rock face, with your body clutched close to mine so you can never escape from me again.
