her in vain.
And when I’d called in every favour I was owed from every friend who wasn’t too afraid to speak to me, and I tracked her down to every place they said she might be, no one I questioned could honestly claim they’d seen or heard from her since that bitter night.
And the shadow kept coming back. Consistently. Horribly. More and more violently.
As I continued to seek her out, I grew more desperate. Fearing for her safety. Fearing for her life. And a few of my impromptu interrogations nearly sealed my fate. They’d certainly gained me a reputation as someone not to be trifled with. Everyone who refused to help me find her went missing. Consumed by a darkness I didn’t fully understand and didn’t feel it necessary to at the time. And their friends and loved ones began filling up emergency rooms all over the boroughs. Too terrified to talk, even if they could somehow rationally explain the young man who’d come to ask them questions about a girl named Melody and the blackness that followed him, swallowed them whole and spat them back out.
Yet, as far as anyone else knew, she had simply disappeared. Right along with her boyfriend.
And I, at least, never saw her precious, beautiful white face again.
And I, for certain, would never ever be sure if she was safe. Or where she was. Or if she even still was at all.
And I still spend every single day, even as I take a moment to finish writing up this ridiculous assignment, remembering Melody. Remembering that beautiful coming together—that silent and singular moment—and dying inside. Odds are I’m not okay yet. No matter when you happen to note my absence.
And when the summer was over and I returned to my mom and our empty shell of a home, I took a really good look at my world.
And I asked myself: Are you surrounded by things you love? Why not?
To tell you the truth, it doesn’t make a bit of difference to me anymore. Not all questions are meant to be answered. Some are meant to bind us to a path. To break us and keep us broken.
Right now I should be balled up, crying like a baby. Because, this summer, I learnt I could realise dreams I never thought I ever would. I learnt how love was supposed to feel, and I experienced it fully. I learnt life is mostly cruel and unfair. I learnt that, if I’m ever really hurting and I need to feel Melody’s embrace, the brown poison can take away my pain for a little while. But, most importantly, this summer I learnt, to depths I never fathomed possible, how not to care.
And if I don’t get a good grade on this paper, my uncle says he will be very upset. So please give me an A. If you don’t, his shadow will find you, it will take you and it will torture you without end.
It promised me.
And you’d better believe it’s fuckin’ serious.
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