She stood there. She’d forgotten. She’d forgotten the way the trees sway, the way the air carries stories from far away. Steel streaks broke the foggy morning, splitting away in streams reminiscent of the broken trees above. Her hand went out to the branch: cold and forgotten. Broken concrete and overgrown weeds flooded the area before her. It took some imagination to restore it to its former glory of a church. Now, they were simply ruins in the center of a burned down forest, a ghost town of memories. She’d forgotten. A disease is sleeping inside her mind, a heart attack sleeping inside her chest.
She clutched the tree, digging in her nails, hearing the satisfying crunch of nail against wood. Her nails won against the scorched bark, long weakened and crumbling. A smile cracked across her lips, and she knelt down in the grass, the mud, her fingers burying inside the soil. The memories she’d forgotten here. The memories. How long had it been since she’d last seen these grounds, since she’d last seen her mother over by that hill? How long since she’d last seen her father hold her mother’s hand while he leaned in to kiss her? How long had it been since she was in her father’s arms, on his shoulders, clinging to his head for her life and screaming with innocent joy? The cold of the soil seeped through her fingers and she withdrew them, her eyes fixed on the dirt under her fingernails. When did she forget these feelings? When did she withdraw herself? When did becoming human become an effort? Did she really have to come to a funeral to remember herself? She withdrew, emotion building in her chest. It tightened and it didn’t seem to unwind. Her breath came out in gasps. The rain was light yet it seemed something was dripping down her face. Her right hand went to her face, searching, her fingers finding a tear. Had she cried? Had she cried? Surprise. She felt surprised.
Her vision was blurred, lights dancing in the corners. Were those from her tears? How ridiculous. She hadn’t cried since before her parents’ funeral. She wasn’t supposed to cry now. She was broken, wasn’t she? She had given up, hadn’t she? She didn’t want to live. This was all nonsense. She’d ventured here without meaning to, and now she regretted it. She stood alone in the carcass of a church, the rain dancing on her shoulders, her clothes clinging to her. Then she began to laugh, a maniacal high-pitched noise. It could be likened to a raven’s screech, perhaps, but longer. Her voice cracked, and she began to gasp for air again.
She’d remembered. She’d remembered what she’d come here for. She had come here to join her parents. She withdrew pills from her pocket. She’d gathered a random handful of all her medications when she was at home and shoved them there. They were damp, but she shoveled them into her mouth regardless, swallowing quickly so that she didn’t taste the bitterness.
First she laughed, then she coughed, and finally she heaved. Her body had rejected it and she was now throwing everything back up. Multicolored liquid decorated with some half-opened capsules now decorated her shoes. The tears continued to stream down her face. She began to wail. She wanted to die, she wanted to die so much and yet it was so hard. Her body rejected the pills. Her body knew that it wasn’t supposed to inject those. She wanted to die. She wanted to die. Out of desperation, she fell to her knees and began to search the grounds of the destroyed church. She crawled on her hands and knees, wailing, screaming, crying. She felt around, touched the stones of the ground, avoiding the mess she’d left in the center of what had once been a room. She approached the place where an alter had once stood, and felt around for what she hoped would have once been the magnificent stained glass windows. Her fingers grazed a sharp edge, and her wailing ceased, and only light sobbing could be heard as she slowed down her emotions.
Her fingers grasped the full piece and held it up to the sky and the sunset filtered through the red and blue glass. It wasn’t large- about the size of her palm, but it would do. It was sharp, and it would do. She plunged it towards her heart, before she could feel regret. She would finally join her parents in happiness. She would finally find joy again. She wanted to die. She had come here wanting to die.