Goodbye

Goodbye(Panchami) She felt her heart drumming against her rib cage, not quite reaching out far enough, not touching her chest. With every beat, she felt a tremor as if every time her heart touched her rib cage, the pain, the fear, the genuine sadness and uncertainty increased ever so slightly. The feeling, like a rose blooming in her heart, a cruel black one - seemed to make her chest contract, tightening till it seemed to evoke grief every time she breathed. But she couldn't let it out, the bottled up feelings inside her. She couldn't-wouldn't- scream; it was a sign of weakness. It would feel too much like a prey giving into the thing, the very one thing lurking in the shadows, that it should never surrender to. She wanted to cry, wanted to feel the emotions, even a bit, leaving with her fragile tears, but her eyes never watered. Her body, made strong by years of enduring; of keeping silent but staying strong, refused to give her the pleasure, the one wish of drowning in her tears or even letting one trickle down her cheek. She sighed; knew trying to force them out wouldn't help. The cold wind, light but persistent, swiped past her thin shirt. She could feel its icy touch, its mocking cold as it moved past her. Her legs huddled close to her, head on her knees, she let her feelings form a net around her. Snared in the net, she knew it was useless to try to ignore the overwhelming sadness, the heartwrenching fear. It would be better to let it pass, to feel weak right there and then. To get over her emotions, her paranoia and to emerge stronger and tougher. For the moment, she let the invisible hand grip her heart, let it squeeze any existing happiness out of her. The lone, monotonous flow of water sang to her as she thought. She thought about her dad, his disfigured face, raw flesh and blood splattered everywhere. About her sister, blind and begging on the street. About the lady who had given birth to them and left just months later. She looked at the water, calm, flowing gently past her as she sat on the bank. The moon, sure and clear, lay reflected in the water. The peace, the tranquility of the night, wrapped around her like a protective blanket as she finally lay down, her shirt now soaked in blood. The bullet had lodged itself deep into her bones, leaving a tiny and precise hole in her shoulder blade. As the night closed in on her, she was struck by its beauty and by the time her eyes closed, she knew her end had come.