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An Original Piece of Writing | A Prologue…Until Death Do Us Part

Remembering that day is painful.  Remembering that day haunts my every dream and every waking moment.  The loss of your soul mate is a soul deep loss.  A bone achingly painful loss.  The souls holding hands are inexplicably snapped when their life force is taken from you in such a brutally violent act.  That moment has transformed me into this weak- minded shadow of my former self.  The shock almost protects you from dying right alongside them.  Eventually the shock wears off and your brain registers what is happening.  It fires synapses left, right and centre.  It is travelling at a hundred miles per hour.  Confusion, pain and denial seep into your core.  If only you can make sense of it, if only you can create invisible chords to your dead husband and make your way to him and that somehow you can bring him back.  Your wrong.  You can’t bring him back.  He’s dead and nothing will ever be the same again.

It was meant to be our wedding day.  Yes, our wedding day.  The day brings me both joy and sadness.  The morning filled with champagne with my best friend, Dominika, my maid of honour and my bridesmaids.  Laughter, reminiscing of times gone by and excitement of the years to come filled me with love – exactly what you should feel on your wedding day.  I felt like a million dollars when I slipped that wedding dress on.  It fit like a glove.  I couldn’t wait until Finn laid his eyes on me.  It was supposed to be the most memorable day of my life.  Well it turned out to be, but, for all the wrong reasons.  Horrific reasons. 

I walked down the aisle towards my smiling groom.  He looked so handsome.  I found it hard not to run towards him, to hell with traditions.  His hair was the perfect shade of golden.  His sparkling azure like eyes glinting its usual mischief.  I was more than happy to get lost in those eyes forever.  Oh god, it was supposed to be forever.  The scene was perfect.  The cathedral was decorated perfectly in my favourite flower, the Calla Lilly.  The scent is one I will never forget.  Strangely, the smell is something I will always associate with that day.  I can’t fucking stand the Calla Lilly now.  I will never have it in my house.  We were surrounded by our family and friends.  Around one hundred pairs of eyes baring witness to the event that was about to unfold.  Eyes that would probably never unsee my worst moment.  Guilt floods me.  I feel broken that not only I experienced it but that innocent people and god, some children had to watch that.  How are they dealing with it?  Considering what I went through the fact I feel guilt for others still gives me hope that I haven’t turned completely to stone. 

Just as I was about to reach the alter and my husband-to-be reaching his hand out to me.  A commotion breaks our moment.  The church doors crash against wall, reverberating around us.  It was an echo that was created by the devil himself.  It was the moment that would change my life forever.  It was a woman.  Well, at the time I assumed it was a woman.  She was deranged.  Her blonde hair matted and crazy.  The eyes spinning everywhere taking in the scene.  She was dressed in what looked like a hospital gown, it was open at the back and her gaunt frame barely kept it on her.  I wasn’t totally convinced that she wasn’t anorexic.  At first I didn’t see what she was holding.  And then suddenly she raised it at eye level.  It was a pistol.  She didn’t even hesitate or blink. Sudden and furious the bullet hit its mark.  The bullet entered his jugular and Finn dropped.  I never reached his hand.  He chocked on his own blood.  I couldn’t immediately move, I was frozen in place and there was only me and him.  Two universes collided.  A supernova of destruction. I don’t know how much time had passed.  My body finally snapped into action.  I bent over my dying Finn.  I put pressure onto his bloody wound. [] It was spurting through my fingers but the wound was just too big.  It was a fruitless endeavour.  It was like a scene from a horror movie.  There was quite literally blood everywhere.  It had soaked my wedding dress from the neck line down. It was drenching me in his lifeblood. I could barely move from the added weight the blood caused. [] You wouldn’t believe how much blood a human body contains, until it bleeds out of course. The spray from the bullet wound turned the beautiful Calla Lilies from a angelic white to a horrific blood red.  The order of service sheets were oozing and the images would forever be imprinted into my brain.    In Finn’s last dying moments, it was like there was nobody else around us.  He stared into my eyes and whispered “I do.”  It was the worst thing that could have been uttered in that moment.  His weak grip of her wrist loosened and fell to the floor.   He was gone. His face pallor, his eyes lifeless and unblinking. A waste of such a pure soul. He was limp.  He was no longer the man I knew. That was taken from me.  I thought I could feel my heart audibly break.  I looked around.  The woman was gone.  I heard someone phoning the police and an ambulance.  I didn’t care.  Nothing would bring him back. I fell to the ground and held my beloved, sitting in a puddle of his blood.  It was warm, a feeling I would never have again.   

It hasn’t been long but I don’t believe time heals everything.  Maybe it helps but only slightly.  Maybe one day I wont cry about it all day.  I long for the day when it doesn’t consume every thought I have.  I long for the day when I get better, when I can smile again and god forbit it, laugh.  All my days are shrouded in darkness but I crave to have a good day.  I can’t imagine there wont be a day where the pain isn’t there.  It’ll always be there, tightening its grip on my heart.  This is just how things are now, I need to find some way to live with it.  I’m getting used to it.  I shouldn’t have to, but I am.  Just because I’m getting used to it doesn’t mean I don’t think about it every second.  It’s been etched deep into my soul.  If I think about it too much the tears will consume me.  Its still love.  A love that you cannot give.  Unfortunately grief is just love that has no place to go.

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