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Darkness

In a single moment, everything can change...

By April WilliamsPublished 2 years ago 9 min read
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I awoke to perfect darkness. A steady thrumming of rain fell against the roof of my home and touched my eras like a melancholy whisper. My dreams, so colorful and vivid, dissolved into the flat, grayscale world of reality. Shadows descended, suffocating me like a dense fog. Was this what if felt like to drown?

I reached for my watch to check the time. 3 AM. I rolled over onto my back and lay staring into the darkness. Five hours until the designated meeting. A profound sense of dread pressed in on me, rivaled by an equally strong feeling of anticipation. It was a toxic combination. My nerves were shot, my entire body buzzing with electricity. I felt for that familiar place on my left, hand, where the ring encircled my finger and the diamond protruded like a promise. The metaphor flashed through my brain before I could stop it. Because there's a funny thing about promises. They can be broken.

It didn't take long to give up on the prospect of sleep to soothe my tormented soul. I pushed back the covers and eased my feet over the edge of the bed. Getting up wasn't difficult, even with my bad leg. It was shuffling across the room that was slow and uncertain. I thought of my cane as I made it out of my bedroom and into the kitchen but decided I didn't need it. I hated the way it restricted me, the way it reminded me of all I had lost and all I still had left to lose. I limped unsteadily across the room and, with shaking fingers, fumbled for the latch at my front door. It seemed I was always shaking these days. A headache perpetually throbbed at my temples, and my whole body suffered from its effects.

The door opened and a rush of cool air sent stinging raindrops to my face. I took a breath. It was a mistake to venture outdoors in a rainstorm, especially without my cane. It was rash; unsafe. But what else did I have to lose? The thought came sardonically but left behind a wave of grief.

Carefully, slowly, I stepped forward. I was still shaking. The sidewalk was rough under my feet, and I flinched when an unexpected puddle drenched my pants up to my ankles. It was almost a welcome sensation. It granted me with yet another reason to bemoan my life, another justification for the bitterness crushing my lungs. Memories pelted me, refusing to let up. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the semi coming at me, feel the jarring impact and hear the shattering glass. But it was even worse than that. The truth was that I saw it even with my eyes open. It was like a movie projection on a blank, black screen. A living nightmare. It's not uncommon in car crashes to lose some memory of the moments just prior to the accident. For me, it's the opposite. The time AFTER the crash gets hazy in my memory. The hospital stay, the smell of the sheets, the terror that engulfed me as I opened my eyes for the first time. All of that I can remember as a sedated blur. It's horrifying, but not haunting. No, it's the moments BEFORE the crash that plague me with their clarity. Because those are the moments that changed everything. I could see them constantly. Eyes open, eyes closed.

I stared straight ahead into the darkness, my mind refusing to rest. I thought of the warmth of Will's hand in mine, the sensation that spread through me every time our fingers intertwined.

My foot slipped off the sidewalk. I stumbled onto the road with a shriek, then breathed deeply through my nose as I righted myself and got back onto the sidewalk. I continued my slow shuffle forward as if nothing had happened, but my shaking had intensified, and as the rain poured harder and the wind shifted direction to pound into my face, I couldn't tell the difference between the rain and my tears.

I didn't even realize where I was going until I heard the door slam in the distance. That's when I knew that my feet had taken an unconscious left turn at the end of my street. Maybe all doors sound the same, but the footsteps that pounded up behind me were unmistakable.

"Clara!" A voice called.

My heart stopped. The familiarity of Will's voice invaded my senses and turned my heart to water.

Slowly, I turned around. And there he was.

"What are you doing out here alone?" Will demanded, his voice louder than necessary above the sound of the rain. He still couldn't seem to remember that my hearing hadn't been impaired by the accident. In fact, sometimes I felt as if it had been enhanced.

"I just needed some air," I responded.

"Yeah, or some water in your lungs." He sounded upset. I wondered if that was a good sign. A sign that maybe he still cared.

I let my lips turn upward in a faint smile. "I'm fine, Will."

"No, you're not. How can you be trusted to live alone if you're going to do stupid things like this?"

"My smile left. "I'm not an invalid."

He didn't answer.

My throat tightened. "Will, I'm not helpless."

"If you're not going to use your head," he snapped, "at least use your cane.

"I'm sick of that cane! I don't need it when I'm in familiar territory. I'M FINE."

Will breathed out a sigh, slow and steady. I recognized the sound as his preface to something I didn't want to hear. "Clara....." he started.

My heart thudded once, skipped a beat, then began pounding at my temples. "Not yet," I said hastily. "We weren't supposed to meet until tomorrow."

"This morning."

"This is the middle of the night."

"Then you shouldn't have come out by yourself. Look, I don't want to put this off. Another couple of hours will just make us crazy."

I turned my head quickly, stringy hair obstructing my face from his view. I didn't want him to see the terror I felt.

"Clare, everything's changed."

I didn't respond.

"Ever since the accident...."

My heart kept on pounding, but I couldn't feel it in my chest. That part of me felt cold and dead. Instead, I could feel my heartbeat hammering into my head like an anvil. "Nothing's changed," I whispered, but it was a lie so massive not even a trace of conviction backed my words.

Will continued as if he hadn't heard me. "We're not the same people we were. We're different. Both of us. I don't..... know if I'm equipped for this. To take care of you."

I spun back toward him. "You don't need to! Please, Will. All I need is support. Not a caretaker. It's just a bump in the road. We can get through it. Together."

He didn't say anything. I heard the rain pattering against the leaves in the overhanging tree and strained to hear his reply. He didn't offer one.

"I know things are different," I went on, desperately. "And that I'm not used to everything yet. But I'll get there. And I can still do almost everything I could do before. I can still eat, work, go on errands..... I can't drive, but I can't walk. My limp is restrictive, but Will, I can still walk."

"But you can't see."

The words took my breath away. Reality pummeled me like a punch to the gut, and I felt exposed, betrayed. Being blind isn't something you can forget. But still, I was trying. I was trying hard. The profound futility of it all washed over me and once again, I wondered if this was what it felt like to drown. I shut my eyes, and the darkness within looked exactly like the darkness without. My world had been reduced to a tunnel. An atramentous voice. Tears slipped between my lashes. The candle of my heart, burning low and flickering between doubt and hope, was suddenly snuffed out.

I couldn't see. My mind repeated Will's words like a death sentence. I opened my eyes, but nothing had changed. I couldn't see. I longed for Will's face to open up before me, for my eyes to drink in the sight of his crooked nose and blue, blue eyes, but all I could see was darkness. My lips wobbled as I tried to speak. "I'm alive, Will." It was a plea. "As long as I'm alive, I'm yours. As long as we're together...." My voice hitched, and I couldn't continue. It wasn't just him I felt slipping away. It was myself. The darkness was closing in on me, and I could feel the very essence of my being crushing beneath its weight.

"What do you want from me?" I finally whispered.

"I don't want anything." His voice was filled with pain. "It's not you. It's not the fact that you're blind. It's ME. Don't you understand, Clara, that if I loved you the way I should, the way you DESERVE, that it wouldn't matter to me that you're blind." I pictured his hands illustrating his words as he spoke, moving around in front of him with the passion for what he was saying. "It wouldn't matter if you were deaf or paralyzed of even dead. Real love supersedes all that. It's unceasing."

"If it's unceasing, then why don't you love me still?" I cried.

"I don't know."

Instinctively, I reached out. The coldness of his voice, the hollow way his words echoed through the air, left me desperate. I needed the feeling of his face between my palms, my fingers tracing along his jawline and touching the hollows of his cheeks. "I love you, Will," I sobbed, but I couldn't find him. My hands trembled through empty air.

He caught my wrists and gently pushed me away. "That's why I have to let you go."

I sobbed harder, resisting. "I don't understand."

"I don't love you." He sounded sad, like he didn't understand it himself. "Not the way I thought I did. If I did, nothing could come between us. Not even this."

"You're not trying! How can you love me if you just give up?"

"You need to go home now."

"Will!" I screamed.

"I'll give you a ride."

I couldn't reach him. I couldn't reach him with my hands, and I couldn't reach him with my words. I sobbed harder, not caring if I looked like a fool. My world was ending, and I was powerless to stop it.

Spinning around, I stumbled back in the direction I had come. My hands stretched in front of me to feel the way, but I realized I didn't even care if I found it.

"Clara!" Will called after me, but I didn't stop. I fumbled forward through the rain, toward my home, toward the nothing my life represented.

Ahead, my future looked bleak. More than that, it looked dark.

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