A Walk Through the Night

My limbs ache, pulling my body down towards the mud beneath my ragged feet. Every hair on me stands on end as pricks from the cold breeze slowly invade my white skin. My legs tremble as they prepare to crumble—yet I stand, longing to outlast the pain inflicted by the night as I move my toes to avoid the pins and needles growing from the ground. I can feel small blades in the mud, squashed and dead. I can't move, I can't speak, but most of all I can't sleep. Pure darkness folds around me. A single streetlight lies ahead, and the small crescent moon is the only thing holding my blurred concentration. I have escaped each loving person, and this last week has left me entirely exhausted physically, emotionally and mentally. I can still feel my pulse in every part of me. It keeps me steady and upright, illuminating the little strength that dwells within me. This pain will wash away.

It’s quiet on this road; you can only hear the whistle of the wind as it breaks through the trees and around the bends. I think of him speeding past and the peace each morning, but he is no longer here, and I am left fighting alone. I swing my arms above my head and let them fall. I pick up each leg and move them forward towards the light, faster I move them ‘til they are carrying me past the light. And barefoot, I run along the muddy side of the road. I can outrun the night again. My heart beats faster with every leap I take. And slowly, the ache I feel fades away with the light behind me. I run for what feels like hours, trying to outlast the darkness within me, but I feel myself slowing around one narrow bend and find myself at the bottom of a concrete driveway with white edges, looking up at the purple flowers bordering a simple house. I shift my gaze to the large, new-looking shed and stare, waiting for something to happen. My heart feels too close to my skin, like it's being torn out in anticipation. 

The longer I stay, the more sick and dead the flower becomes as if the purple has been washed away in the night. The longer I stare, the older the shed becomes, like I'm watching rust grow around it. The longer you stare, the more complicated that simple house becomes. I don't know why I'm here or who I'm waiting for—there is nothing left for me here, not one single memory I can salvage without a tear. I haven't moved, I haven’t spoken, but most of all, I haven't slept because each night when I get home, there is no one to run to or move for, and there is no one worth speaking to, and there are no more good dreams! My heart is pounding in my chest, ready to burst. I can see the night slowly fade away and watch the sunrise over the house from the road. The warmth hits my face, and insomnia settles back in as I finally give up and allow myself to fall to the ground. Right there, I fell into a puddle outside his house. Right here is where I cry my first and last cry, and the only time I miss my best friend. Right now, I feel my heart slow as the tears leave me, so does the weight of being alone, feeling completely and utterly alone. 

by Mikayla Alicia