Here is where we end, and where we meet again

It's a shallow ringing in her ears, a haunted take of a life that once was dancing around like fragments in her head. She's reaching, pulling for the surface but yet completely exasperated from her troubles… her troubles from this world and what happens next.

Bile forms at her throat, the bitter taste of blood in her cheeks and she's briefly wondering how she found herself in this predicament entirely. She's left wondering where did it all go wrong as the ashes scatter at her feet and the gnawing pain in her heart never subsides. She can't fathom thinking whose ashes those are, no she won't go there, but she knows without a shadow of a doubt it's her… the painstaking reminder of a life full of love reduced to miniscule fragments at her feet.

Leslie can't cry and she won't in fear she will never stop. This isn't a world where she can be spared a moment of weakness, not in the dire catastrophic situations she's found herself in. Buildings and homes reduced to pebbles and debri, the world no longer turns like it used to. It's the beginning of the end and she knows this. She feels it so deep in her bones, at the center of her very core, but this is the end without her. This is the end for her.

The blood is whirling around in her mouth and she spits out an alarming amount of it, a silent sob managing to escape through. She momentarily wonders why no sound actually comes from her gaping open mouth. It's deafening inside her own mind, the screams ricocheting off the four walls fabricated up in her head, yet no sound befalls from her parched lips. No one but herself can hear her heart break, her body battered and bruised from the endless battle that this unforgiving world has caused her. Her skin blistered and raw, the radiation in the air sucking the life out of her slowly over time like a hot air balloon.

She wonders how she got to this moment, sitting on a makeshift throne of rubble with her dead lover's ashes at her feet. The tears prickle her eyes as she lays there, blinking back what she can in an attempt to regain her composure. In this new world, she can't be weak. She has to be strong, resilient even when she feels like giving up. She has to power on with or without her beloved, keeping her memory alive as they all but bounce around in her head reminding her of how good things once used to be.

She was there with her, a beacon by Leslie's side, when the first bombs dropped and when the sky turned to green acid. She was there with her when the first outbreak happened and when the Earth began to crumble beneath their feet, slowly but surely. She was there during the first war that transpired since the bombs, and the second, and the third. Her beloved, the center of her entire universe and her absolute salvation in this vastly cruel world… her Amara… who now sits in a pile of dust at her feet.

She knew deep in her heart something was wrong this time when they scoured for a reliable food source. While fear always dangled so closely to her chest in every waking moment of this new aged world, she knew the eerie silence was entirely too silent. And before it had even begun, it was already over. Amara, who never forgot how to smile despite the circumstances, had stepped in the wrong place at precisely the wrong time. The flash of that radiant smile being the last thing Leslie sees before she's projected into the air from the impact and catapulted away from the blast. There was nothing left of Amara but the faint smell of burnt flesh. She was gone just like that and Leslie was left with a painstaking reminder of what kind of world she's now living in.

Sitting there, crumbled and defeated on a pile of broken down pieces of buildings that used to reign high in the sky, she lets herself find some serenity in the memories of Amara. She's so entranced in living in the past, a faint smile dancing on her lips at how good everything used to be, that she fails to see the miniscule red dot focus right on her chest.

It hits her like a tidal wave and Leslie is knocked sideways from the bullet striking her right where the red dot was lingering just seconds prior. This time, a blood curdling scream escapes her mouth. Her hands grasp at her chest, clutching to find some air to fill her lungs. Blood slowly oozes out, staining her hands and causing her body to go into panic mode. This is the end, she thinks to herself. She briefly wonders if that's such a bad thing without Amara around anymore. She wants to give up, to crumble beneath all the weight on her shoulders, and finally have a peaceful sleep that only death could provide. But Leslie knows deep down this is not how Amara would want her to end. She knows Amara would want her to keep fighting until her very last breath.

Forcing herself to sit back up, teeth clamping down on her lip at the searing pain shooting through her spine, she makes a quick haste at prying the bullet out of her skin. Her fingers, shaky and unsteady, go to where she figured the bullet would be lodged into her skin only to find nothing there. Confusion is etched across her face at this point, wondering how there's not a bullet where she suspects but a deep bruising bleeding cut instead. That's where she finds the heart shaped locket, perfectly in place at the center of her chest with a bullet embedded into it. Tears well in her eyes and confusion quickly turns into disbelief. The locket Amara got her so many years ago quite literally saved her life. She should be dead by now, just like her, bleeding out in a pool of her own blood cursing the skies above. Instead she's bruised, battered, and a little bloody but alive. She's alive because of one gift years ago. She's alive from loving someone in the utmost way. She's alive because of Amara, whose love still managed to continue on even in death.

Start writing...Highgate