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The trees are in misery, and the birds are in misery. I don’t think they sing. They just screech in pain. ...Taking a close look at what’s around us, there is some sort of harmony: it’s the harmony of overwhelming and collective murder.
WERNER HERZOG
That scene would stay with me for the rest of my life. I would remember the smell, the taste sitting on my tongue, the tears that were falling endlessly from my eyes and the way my heart was beating—lost out of sync as it let go of all it ever had.
Bellz, Bella-Marie Wigmore.
I hate that I had a photographic memory, a 166 IQ, and a brain that’s been put through enough tests to know that I remember everything. Everything bad. Everything good. And the in-between. So, the memory of her last intake of air would forever haunt me. I wanted to zip open my skin and tuck her inside, keep her alive with me forever. I didn’t want to say goodbye and now they had run into the room to hush the machines, their eyes wet with unshed tears. The nurses were human too and she was larger than life, my best friend. She was magic. And now, now I was alone. Her body was limp, slightly heavy in my arms, as violent but silent sobs broke through my body and pooled out around me, spilling to a puddle on the floor underneath us.
The cold sweat gathered under my arms and bile rose from the pit of my belly, it had me trying to slip from under her body. “Please, fuckin’ hell, please,” I pleaded. “Please let me out. I gotta get out, please.” Panic had taken hold as a nurse saw the fear ebbing from my eyes. My body shook, my bottom lip quivered. “Fuck, Bellz.” The nurse helped get her off of me. I slipped out and my hands shook violently as she lowered her small body back onto the pillows. I lowered my salty tasting lips to my best friend’s still warm, slightly blue ones and kissed her goodbye, bleeding all my pain into her. I jumped back from the bed, grabbed my bag, ran from the room and never looked back.
* * *
The heart was the mistress of the devil. That was why it was locked behind your ribs—locked inside a boned cage.
With little hope of escape.
The devil was far eviler than the stories made out.
I’d known this from the moment I had my first kiss.
The moment I made the blood pact with my best friend to never leave each other and to always fight.
I knew it the moment she told me she had cancer and broke that pact.
I knew it the moment the treatment stopped working, and I knew it the first night I took a line of cocaine to hide the pain inside my eyes and numb the heart that was a traitor—breaking silently for a loss I was not ready for.
I wanted to unleash the devil’s mistress, and I wanted the devil to take the last part of my heart. I wanted to taste other boys, slip into new clubs. I wanted to try all the drugs and I wanted to no longer be on display for my parents.
She was now gone, and I could just burn my way through the city in which we grew up in. I was bat shit lost.
Tonight, I felt it all, the savage pain, the unshackling of the bones around a locked cage, keeping the devil from kissing my heart and the freeing feeling that only violent loss could bring.
I no longer cared.
That was dangerous to a woman with my last name. I no longer gave a fuck about the rules, the media assistant or PA manger that would have a heart attack if my memories leaked from my ears and made the headlines. The heart is a fucking monster and I just unleashed mine.
