Internet 24

Through Unknown Eyes

Everyone assumes nothingness is a black void, but that can't be. In itself, darkness is something. Nothingness is a detachment from everything: people, place, hunger, smell. It's a place I know she wants to be.

I stare at Marcy sitting at my kitchen table. We're both sixteen, but I always needed to mature faster than everyone else. Her clothes are soaking wet, but she ignores the cold. Her eyes are focused, but her mind is elsewhere, somewhere darker. Marcy is about to join me on that path, and I hate it.

I can see it; in her mind, the room is dark. The light above the table illuminating the edges with her dead center of the spotlight. The light bounces off her ebony skin and her auburn curly hair. Her eyes are puffy, and there are dried tears on her cheek.

A contract and a golden pen engraved with seashells are lying on the table before her. She tries to hide it but flinches every few seconds as if she can hear the upticks in real-time. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

I let her know there wasn't much time left. She already knew this, but she was still frozen until another uptick.

Marcy grabs the pen. Ocean water flows out from the farthest point from the pen's tip. The ocean water wraps around her arm, travels up, and stops on the left side of her chest. Right, where her heart is. Starting from that spot, the clear water shifts red, with the salty scent in the air replaced with iron.

Marcy stares at the paper. She is hesitant and afraid. Is she reconsidering, or is it my glare? Then, the multiple beeps stop. I can hear from hear the continuous BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

Before I can tell her, she knows. I don't know how, but she knows.

Her eyes widen, and she signs the paper franticly. Marcy Luna. Her chest glows, precisely where her heart is. It is a rainbow pear light. It contrasts the harsh red with its soft beauty. Marcy sits there quietly. I know it hurts, but she takes the pain.

I reach out for my contract. Marcy stares at my scaly turquoise arm, with long nails made of coral. With the contract in hand, I watch the pearl light fade and be replaced with darkness. The water returns to the pen, leaving a hole in her chest, absorbing all the light from the room. It's gradual and will eventually fade, but for the moment, it is there and cannot be avoided.

The beeps return; they are steady. She has a relieved grin, but it doesn't match the sorrow in her eyes as new tears form.

I'm sorry.