The Lions Den

Chapter Eleven Part I: When the Gazelle Crashes Down

Kashera

I was holding onto his hands in a last ditch effort to hold on to the last bit of us.

I knew that it was a frail effort because I felt us slipping away with each passing millisecond. Yet, for the sake of my sanity I had to try. I had to try to keep him here. I normally prided myself on not fighting in vain for things that obviously weren't for me, but there was an exception for everything. I think it went without saying that this was mine. This, Matteo and I, was destined to be. It had to be, because if it wasn't I wouldn't feel like this. I wouldn't feel like I was fighting for what I felt was mine. Because that was what he was: mine.

Damn it he was mine.

He should be mine. I want him to be mine. So why couldn't the universe let him be mine?

He tried to pull away from my hold, but I held on firmly for dear life. How selfish could I be? Here I was the one who asked to be let go, but I couldn't be the one to release him. I trailed over the lines of his hands, over the crevices of his ring, as I tried to memorize every facet of the hands that I'd come to love to hold. Hands that had comforted me, wiped my tears, and that had protected the soft skin of my own. How could I ever be the one to let go? I didn't  know the answer to that, but I knew I would have to find it because at my request, he would let me go. He would leave me alone to deal with the suffocating aftermath of my request.

I felt like I was seconds of away from drowning. The water was pushing at my eyes, my nose, and my mouth: completely invading all of my senses. I knew that the moment I let him go it would be only seconds before I went underneath with no sign of being pulled back to the surface. I took my time taking him in. I was trying to remember the glints of his ring under the lights. The way he looked under this light. My eyes traced over his face, and my throat closed up tightly, not allowing a sound to escape when all I wanted was to sob, or scream, or give some indication of how absolutely helpless I felt.

He looked hurt, and I could see the turmoil going on his eyes as I reached up and held his face in my hands. How many times had I done this, but this time felt so unbearably weighted. I felt the lightness of the stubble that was there, and I felt the sharpness of his jaw clenching underneath my touch. I gave myself three seconds, two, before I took my last breath and caved into the downward pull of the water. Right before I took my last look up close. Right before I let go.

I walked quickly over to the table and gathered my things with shaking hands. I almost felt sick as my breathing was becoming painfully labored. I forced myself to pause for a moment to at least attempt to gather myself long enough to make it out the doors of the restaurant and to the car. When I was finally able to stop myself from shaking to the point of complete dysfunction, I turned around and walked over to him one last time. I told myself I wouldn't look at him any more or reach out to touch, but how could I not?

I dared to turn my eyes up to him, but what I wasn't expecting was to see the coldness that had completely hardened over his eyes. I couldn't help but to take in a sharp breath that felt like a borage of a thousand sharp little knives prickling at my lungs as I looked down. My need to reach out and touch him vanquished in a jarring instant. I wouldn't dare reach out and have him further reject me in such a way. He'd done as I'd asked of him, but I couldn't stop the hurt from taking over my heart and mind at how quick he was in fulfilling my request. It didn't matter if I knew deep down it was only a mask. Timidly I spoke my last words to him.