Words

She'd been in an accident. That's what her painfully opal eyes told to him when they met gazes. It would never tell him what it was, the twisted wreckage of a car crash, the slip of a scalpel during a procedure, or even the shattering of a heart in the fingers of a careless boy.

The hair that cascaded down her neck and back was listless and translucent. Barely there pigments caught the light just right whenever she wandered along the rays of the sun. She always stretched her arms out and took in a deep sigh of sweet air, sometimes she would spin around, and other times she just stood and stared at him. Her fingers were long and thin, pale from the lack of sun, and she was so tiny against the heavy golden orb behind.

He held her whenever he managed to get close enough to her. He couldn't remember where they met, how they had, all that he knew was from that moment on he had been chasing and running after the sound of her moving through the musical bells of the air. When she moved she created joyous sounds. She was so small and cold as he crushed her to him for the first time; he remembered every line and harsh curve of bone that stuck into him. Her breath had been hot against his neck but her eyes were like frozen steel.

She smiled often. It was soft, wispy, and seemed to encompass all things that were right. When the tips of her lips moved upwards there was a crackling in the membrane that separated them. There was always something separating them, thin and veiling; slimy and resilient. Even when she walked off with her hands behind her, wringing with nerves in a silent plea, he couldn't get it to move.

There were times when the young woman would look incredibly sad. Crystalline sky would turn a dark shade of gray and her lip would be worried sharply against her teeth. He would ask, always, but she wouldn't answer. Not even the usual way her simple little gestures would inform him what was wrong. He was left grasping at the air between the massive fractures between the sorrow.

She was perched on the edge of his bed, her knees drawn up to her knees, and now was such a time. The pallid strands fell over her shoulders in a silent move of silk. The sheets were cold beneath him even as he stared at her, his brows furrowed in a show. He wanted her to see he was concerned. He needed her to realize he was there… again.

Her limbs were regretfully small. It would be nothing to be able to fit his fingers around their circumference. Even when he grasped at her, on her shoulder, wrist, leg, she wouldn't move. Her name fell from his lips over and over; praying to a something he wasn't sure was there, while her eyes merely stared forward in listlessness.

The corners of once pearl shinned eyes were veined with the crow feet of crimson. She was starting to feel clammy to his touch. Sweat, shivering and slick, was running down the surfaces of her limbs and face.

"Sarah," the whisper was little more than a breath near her ear. She flinched, a sign of life for the first time in hours, but did nothing.

A flick from her, gazes meeting for a fraction of a second. Her mouth turned downward, a horrible direction, like wings beating frantically against a hungry wind. Her spine struck out harshly when he ran his fingers down her back.

"Say something…" that did it. She was up like liquid in a tangle of bramble. She brushed passed him and into the living room, ducking out of his sight. The pads of his fingers still burned with the cut of her razor sharp back.

Wrong thing to say.

~~~

They were swimming in the depths of the sheets. Waves of soft fabric against his skin lulled him into a doze while the curves of her back towards him served as a landmark. So far away. She was almost against the lip, nearly out of the bed and on the unforgiving hardness of the wood floor. Absence of her warmth was more painful than an actual argument.

He could almost hear her wringing her hands before her. The shift of dry flesh rubbing together in a desperate attempt to thrush away her anxiety…

A small, ominous white square of a letter was somewhere within the hallway beyond. It almost seemed to roar in the complete solitude around them. It was cold… blue… as he exhaled his breath was a visible cloud between them. What had the letters said? It was the catalyst. Reaching out, finally, when her breathing evened out and she was plunged headlong into a restless slumber he pulled her flush.

He wanted to meld together; to become one being through their bodies. Her bones were pressed to him everywhere, no more soft warmth that had shone through those first years. Her name was a mantra when dreams caught him up and away.

~~~

She was basking out in the morning sun on the jutting balcony. She was getting paler with every day, her eyes cloudy and far off. Sleep was not finding her anymore…

He was getting the bitter taste of something once sweet, her favorite lemonade, when the glow of the letter halted him within the hall. Her huddled form was a blur in his peripheral. Cautiously, the letter found its way into his hands, and soon the flap creaked open under his search. He was sure she heard, she had incredibly sharp ears, but if she did she didn't move. If anything he caught her dropping her head lower. He could picture her gnawing on her kneecaps again…

Smeared ink scattered the page. Words he didn't know the meaning of, things that sounded terrifying, and the light plit-plat of already fallen and dried tears. All that mattered was that final paragraph. Calmly denying the raging now going on within his churning stomach he folded the damned paper up and placed it back down.

Bane of his existence; it came thundering in so fast.

He ventured to stand with his hands on her shoulders. Not sure if he was trying to comfort her or reaffirm to himself she was there. That she was solid.

~~~

His lips traced over her throat in a careful display. A small wheezing lifted from her, as if she were trying to speak, trying to communicate. Her eyes darted towards him for the first time in days, shinning in the dimness broken only by the blaring red of the alarm clock.

Looming over her he smoothed her hair from her face and pressed his forehead to hers intimately. Nails, blunted from constant chewing, scrapped down his arms and left angry red trails. Again, her lips opened and the same hissing noise with a hint of sound whined its way out.

"I understand," was all he murmured, her eyes shutting tight. He didn't want to acknowledge the track of liquid rolling down the sides of her cheeks from the corner of her eyes.

~~~

Two weeks on a cot had worn him down. Everything groaned when he moved and there was a suspicious lump forming on his shoulders. But, he wouldn't leave. Even if the walls were too white and the smell that permeated the air was that of unnatural clean.

Wires were running everything at this point. There was a shock of gauze tapped to her throat and her eyes were closed for the majority of the day. She looked so tired. He hadn't seen her smile in months.

Her hair had started to break off at uneven ends and her eyes, when they managed to fight the weight of drugs away, were turning a milky hue of silver. She had wanted him to shave her head; all she had to do was hold up a small clump for him to understand. He kept what was left in a small bag near him as if it would help her get better.

His fingers closed around her delicate hand and he pressed it to his face. Swear words were coming out in a constant stream now that it had reached this shitty stage. All he could keep asking was 'why'. And the doctors had no answer.

He wanted to see her smile again before… before…

~~~

It was cold in the apartment again. Icy. Frigid. His frown pulled his features down. In her chair, at their table, he rocked back and forth clutching at the bag that held all that was left. The shimmering gold that lay within the plastic was rumpled by this point, tweaked and fried.