Between the Tombstones

 You proposed to me in a cemetery.

The air was cold, the night was dark the moon was bright; and that was when you dropped down to your knee and said, “Marry me.” In your hand was a tiny ring, glimmering like the stars above us. Your fist clenched and unclenched. Your mouth was set in a straight line, as if you are nervous. But your eyes look… they look dead, as they always were.

I… didn’t know what to say. I really didn’t. I sat unmoving on one of the tombstones, my fingers twitching, my feet shuffling. I’ve always thought you’re like an on/off switch. You could flip from being the kindest, most gentle sweetheart to a roaring, livid typhoon in a matter of minutes. But no matter which side you are, your eyes always look lifeless… like the people who are buried here.  

“Hey,” you voiced out, getting up from your stance, “I asked you a question.”

“Marry me.” That wasn’t a question. That was a command. I wanted to voice out these thoughts, but decided against it when you grasped onto my wrist and clutched it tight. You pulled me to stand up. I tried to wrestle my hand away from you, but your grip was much too strong.

“Marry me,” you repeated, shoving the ring towards me. I cried out, struggling for my arm to be free, my voice seemed to echo in the quiet space. You let go on my wrist and clamped it against my mouth, shushing me. Your mouth was already twisted into an angry scowl. Yes, that’s why you liked it here; because it was quiet, because it was calming. And my struggling and screaming seemed to negate that.

“Please,” I pleaded, “Can we sit for a while? I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

That scowl on your lips vanished in a snap, and you gently took my hand in yours and we sat down, in front of a crumbling grave. The grass was cold and damp from the rain this evening, but you didn’t seem to mind. You were busy twirling the ring back and forth between hands.

You stayed quiet for a while, and for a moment, I could not discern which part of you is on the surface. It’s mentally, physically and emotionally draining, being with you, having to balance between the two sides of your personality spectrum. People wonder why I am still with you, but I don’t have to. I’m trapped, like a hopeless animal. One side loves me too much; your other side is possessive of me. Put those two sides together, and you are like a thick metal chain coiled around my throat.

Sometimes, that expression is meant literally. 

 I want to break free of this. The idea has consumed me for so long; so many of those endless, un-executed plans; so many escape routes... but I cannot run, not with these chains confining me. Not with you tracking my every move.

“I love you,” you said to me suddenly, and your voice sounds like you mean it, like you really do mean it. “I love you so, so much.” You take my hand and held it tightly, but lovingly. You looked at me and your dead eyes stared into mine so deeply, I had to look away. It feels like you are trying to reach out into my soul and suck out all the life in it.

I let my eyes stray towards the grave near us. The tombstone was cracked and jagged, and only a portion of the epitaph was left readable –

“rix Thews. 1914 - 19”

Your hand gently touched my chin, tenderly guiding me to look at you. “Won’t you please marry me?” You whisper my name, as softly as the breeze flowing through the weeping willow trees. “Don’t you love me back?”

I usually, automatically reply, “Yes, of course I do. I love you too,” but for some reason, today my voice did not leave my throat. I stayed quiet, my eyes still locked on to the decaying grave.

That was a mistake. You got angry, and you stood up, your fist coming down like a fast bullet and shot against my cheek. I was thrown back, my head hitting against the muddy ground. I yelped, when you positioned yourself above me and started to shake my shoulders. “I said that I love you!” you screamed, “Why don’t you love me back?!” My head bounced against the earth and everything rattled and spun and trembled.

“Stop!” I yelled, “Please stop. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You stopped shaking me, and the world finally had its balance. Your grip loosened, and you relaxed yourself slightly, giving me a bit of space. “I love you too,” I said, desperately. “I love you too. I love you too.”

You got yourself off me, and I managed to push myself up into a sitting position. I was shaking, with fear and with alarm. You stared at me again and slowly, you reached out and –

I flinched, blocking your hand from touching me.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. Your eyes set on the ground. “That got out of hand. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

I put a shaking hand onto my throbbing cheek. How many times had this happened? You blindly let your emotions overwhelm you – all for the tiniest, most insignificant thing – and then after you’ve hurt me, you apologize, again and again and again. I wanted to cry – it hurts so much – but I held back my tears. You hated to see me cry. You would beat me up until I stopped.

You continued apologizing, your hand now gently stroking my arm, and your eyes still refusing to meet mine, like you are ashamed to even look at me. A rush of anger suddenly coursed through me. How many years has this been like this? I can’t even remember the last time I could smile. Why do I have to suffer like this? What have I ever done to deserve such treatment?

“Hey,” you said, “You’ll forgive me, right? I’m sorry, I really am. Please forgive me.” I cursed at you in my head. Your voice was adding fuel to the blaze in my head. You yell at me, shake me, hit me and you expect me to forgive you just like that? Even more, you’re expecting me to marry you? This is absurd. This is ridiculous. This is –

“I will,” I said, “I’ll marry you.”

You were startled for a while, your brown eyes fixed onto my own. You could not believe it, can you? I repeated my decision, my voice calm and collected, “Yes, I will marry you, darling. Of course I will.”

And then I saw a smile on your lips. Such a garish thing to see: that stretch of the lips but with such a lifeless expression upon your face. I sat up properly and you came closer, and you sat down in front of me, sliding the ring through my finger.

I smiled at you, a simple turn of the lips. I pulled you close, tugging at the collar of your shirt. “I’m your wife now, darling,” I murmured. And then I kissed you, slowly at first, then madly and more passionate, like a teenager wild with hormones. And you responded, your hands already roving across my body.

My hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back onto the tombstone behind you. I straddled your body, my hands already snaking across your shoulders, your neck, your ears and through your hair. rix Thews will be our witness to this act.

Slowly massaging the back of your neck, I broke the kiss. Obscene, isn’t it?; to see those lust-filled eyes in such a place. I ran my fingers through your hair, so soft, so silky. “I love you so much,” I whisper close to you, that you could feel my breath on your lips, “I love you so, so, so much…”

Before you could take even a breath to reply, I grasped at the roots of your hair, clutching fistfuls of it in both my hands. Your eyes widened with shock and alarm. Your hands had just only started to move, just about to push at me, trying to get me off your body, but before you could do anything, I gripped your head and –

-- crack.

Red liquid started to trickle in rivulets from your head, down your neck and drip-drip-drip onto the tombstone, staining Thews with a garish red. Your body, now as lifeless as your eyes, lie on the tomb with such a frightful look on your face. How appealing.

You said you really liked cemeteries. You said you liked the silence and the peace here. And now you can rest here. Kind, isn’t it? But that’s what a wife does, she is kind to her husband. Shall I read out our vows now?

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, -- 

Till death us do part, darling."

And now we do.

END.

End notes: I haven't had a midnight rush of writing in a long, long time. 3 hours job, from 11PM to 2AM. I'll check up on the grammar and spelling when I'm more awake otz