Boston's Man-Eater

LVII

I hadn't died from the gunshot.

Not just yet.

But little had I known that the bullet was a poisoned dart, going straight to my neck and putting me sleep for as long as I remembered.

I was in the trunk of Marisol's Mercedes Benz.

The lighting was not any different from the darkness behind my closed eyelids, but I had my limbs bound together, lips taped shut.

My head was throbbing, skin sweating from all the yelling and struggling.

They were going to kill me.

My body was going to be laid in a far away place where Tess would only find me too late.

And when the car came to a halt, I was lifted out of the space by Gerald and a man I wasn't familiar with.

Marisol had exchanged her torn dress for a navy blue one, and her eyes gleamed when she took the shovel and a gallon of gasoline.

"I tried to be nice, Keith, but I guess humans can be difficult creatures to deal with," she said, and closed the trunk, leading me deeper into the heart of the forest.

They dropped me to the hard ground, and I groaned when something snap around my side.

She threw the shovel to the other guy, and very soon, they had picked a spot where they began to dig.

"Cold?" She mocked, glancing at my shirtless torso.

I kept my silence and shot her a threatening glare, as I could not speak even if I wanted to.

"Well, it's about to get really hot. Don't worry," she smiled, and I trembled from the freezing temperature and her dark promise.

I could see the mist leaving her nostrils, before I turned to stare at the forest ceiling.

The sky was pale, awash with cirrus clouds that beared witness to the events of my murder as I had said before.

All this is happening because of Tess. For Tess. My Tess.

A heavy weight lifted from my shoulders as I continued to think of her.

I had a fought a good fight. Endless battles that began with Naomi, the media, Mason, and now the woman who was to end my destiny.

She was worth it.

Every single inch of her had been worth it.

And despite my heart feeling heavy like lead, it gladdened me to have died for someone like Tess.

Beautiful, authentic, misunderstood, mystifying, brilliant and strong Tess.

At least now I know that I'm not a part of the people who'd lie about dying for their lovers. I thought.

I laughed at this, simultaneous to the tears spilling from the corners of my eyes, soaking my ears.

It was saddening, that I had not utilized enough time to do the things I wanted to do on Earth. To live the way I wanted to, and see the places I dreamt of seeing. To wake up each morning with hope in my heart instead of haboring dread.

To tell the woman of my dreams that I loved her.

I daydreamed about a world where things could've been different. A world of our own, without the constant madness that suffocated our serenity.

A bubble that existed at that time where we laid before the clouds of the lake, and talked about anything and everything.

It's funny how you'll always come to appreciate the things you didn't fully express gratitude towards until it's gone. And that was life.