Page 435 of Eternal
I try to breathe, my hand finds the wound, warm, wet, deep. It’s bad, really bad, blood’s already pooling under me.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “Fuck.”
The album’s still there, splayed open on the floor. I see a face, blurred, terrified, and a name I know too well typed beneath it. Senator, Nevada, smiling like nothing's wrong.
My whole chest is wet, I can’t tell if it’s sweat or blood.
No. It’s blood. It’smine.
I press Damir’s gloves against the wound, and I don’t even realize I’m whispering, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” because I’m ruining them, I’m ruining the only thing he gave me that kept me happy tonight.
I blink hard. Everything’s going fuzzy, like I’m underwater, and everything’s pulsing in slow motion.
The photos, the cassettes, the albums. I gather everything I can from the desk with shaking fingers, clutching them like they’re oxygen.
He has to see this, the world has to see this, they can’t erase it, not this time.
I lean forward, and that's when I feel something shift in my pocket.
The note.Hisnote.
I forgot I even brought it with me, folded, nearly torn, simply sitting between the lining. I pull it out with blood-stained fingers and unfold it slowly.
The writing’s messy, rushed. Sohim.
We’re Eternal, baby. I’m probably missing you right now. See you tonight. - Damir
A sharp breath escapes me. It’s not a sob, not really, only this ugly, broken sound that escapes before I can stop it.
“I’m trying…” I whisper. “I’m trying to see you...”
But my hands are slipping, and it’s getting harder to stay upright.
My body is failing, but something inside me… softens, like something tight in my chest finally lets go. Like I’m floating above the pain, even though it’s still there.
I can see my life in flashbacks. My mother’s voice and smile. Alexei teaching me how to dance. The dogs chasing me around the backyard, barking, wild. Vik’s grin. Kat’s laughter. Damir’s voice in the dark. I see everything.
The pain, the torment, the screams.
But it’s not hurting anymore, there’s a strange kind of freedom in this.
In not having to run anymore, not having to be afraid every second, not having to live with the noise in my head, the one that always whispered I wasn’t enough.
And I can see it now, the way I fucked up this life, the only one I had.
And still… sometimes, people forget how beautiful life can be.
These pictures, these kids. Girls and boys with haunted eyes, sitting terrified in the laps of smiling men.
The world lets them smile, the world forgets.
But maybe I was lucky. I had a second chance, and I used it to fight for them. Even if it led me here, bleeding into the tapes and albums and the floor beneath me, while the fireworks outside pretend the world is worth celebrating.
I’ve been alone for as long as I can remember. Lost between pain and denial, never really opening myself to life, never knowing if I was worth fighting for, or even if I wanted to live at all.
I built walls so high I forgot what freedom felt like, and I confused isolation with protection.
Love? Love was never part of the plan. How could anyone love me? Broken. Disgusting. Abused. Discarded. How couldanyone look at shattered glass on the floor and think, “I’ll fix it,” instead of sweeping it away?
