Beat It Out of My Broken Heart

The world could crumble so fast.

Suddenly, I could no longer live with eyes closed. I was going down and the rest were falling even faster. No one was safe.

My friends – had I not just been with them a moment ago? – were nowhere to be found. I was alone and lost and the ground was still broken.

Somehow I did not recall the blast. The echoes of the hollow sound never reached my ears.

Or maybe I was already in denial.


Wailing. The wretched wailing of some young woman was like a siren call. I followed it straight into madness. To them. To him.

His cold gaze left nothing to doubt. His edges were rough and stiff. His mission was clear and we were his pawns.

This show was not over yet.

Friendship had been the reason for my downfall, but I could not blame them. I could not even fathom their plight. Camaraderie seemed like a distant façade. Memories from a different lifetime.

But I was not alone, even now. Their steps traced mine, their eyes shed my tears, their horror tainted my own. And worst of all, we had our suspicions…

Of what exactly he was planning to do with us.


"We can't leave her!" I screamed. Somewhere along the way I had once again found my voice.

"Let's go." He commanded, refusing to spare her twisted corpse a glance.

The rest of the women looked on solemnly, but none dared to speak.

"This is madness! They killed her!" I cried out again, my throat sore and raw.

He lunged at me, grabbing my arm and dragging me to my feet. In one swift motion his revolver was pointed straight at my head.

"Another word and you can join her in the body count." He seethed.

Incorporeally, he convinced me to live.


It shouldn't have been beautiful. Nothing had ever before been so vile.

His eyes were the colour of drunken amber. His smile was overbearing and his teeth were a bit crooked. His hair shined with the glow of a prodigal son.

His words were laced with venom. Vile.

I hoped I would understand why when he caught me looking I did not turn away.

It shouldn't have been beautiful. Nothing had ever before been worth my time.


I had watched the rest of the women fall one by one, lost to the shards of a hollow promise.

"What is there left to live for?" I spoke in rhetorics.

His eyes flashed, locked in place at the void of my eyes. "Go." He said.

I felt the hatred bubble through my insides. "I'm not going any –"

"Go!" He shouted again, but I refused to turn.

He dived, knocking me forcefully to the ground, as I felt the heat of another forgotten explosion at my back.

"You are going to get yourself killed!" He breathed angrily into my ear, his body pressed up against mine.

"Nothing can stop that now."

Without a second's hesitation he was up and running towards some godforsaken future. I could do nothing but follow.

Insanity was only one step away.


"This isn't how it was meant to be." He admitted darkly when we finally found silence.

"And how exactly was it meant to be?" I spat back callously. I didn't have room in my heart for forgiveness along with the residing turmoil.

His mouth closed and the silence found us again.


There was no word to describe the destruction, yet it was written on every line of his face. Every crack and every splinter was burrowed deep in the creases he wore. His hands were lined with dried blood.

So were mine.

He turned, catching my eye. Breaking his vow of silence.

"I'm sorry."

I had never in my life understood what to make of those words.

And he was still shining. At me, through me. I could usually tell a dream from a nightmare.

"No you're not."

This time neither of us chose to look away. Insanity did not even begin to define it.


"I think we're lost." I mused.

"We're not lost, I know where we are."

I watched a small light hover in the distance. I peered into the night sky, aching for familiarity.

He caught the sight and it was almost too late.

"Shit!"

He pushed me away, grasping his gun. He fired rounds until the light flickered out of existence.

Enemy or friend, those words had no meaning any longer. The only choice was to survive.


"You have no more bullets."

"No." He replied through clenched teeth.

The day was no more merciful than the night.

"We have nowhere to go."

He refused to answer.

"Endgame."

The finality was my choice.


With each laboured step I could feel my mind reeling. We had no destination; it was only a matter of time.

"You don't need me anymore." I said.

"…Shut up."

"I'm as good as dead." I continued.

"You are not going to die!"

"Nothing can stop that now." I mouthed.

His eyes flared. "Neither of us is going to die, do you understand me? This isn't over yet. I didn't come here to die. I would have never come this far!" He snapped. "This is not the end, and I am not letting you make it!"

We were coming undone.

I swallowed unsteadily. "You don't need me."

All of his fears had dried up; he could only stare.

It should never have been so beautiful.

"Why are you still here? Why do you still need me? Just go." I was shaking now. "Forget about me."

"I can't."

Suddenly he was kissing me. Pushing me roughly against the wall and kissing me, hard. Hard enough that I began to forget everything that had led up to that point; I stopped caring about what would come after.

We were in the middle of a war. Why did this matter so much?

I pulled away, reluctantly, yet his eyes reflected my hesitation. Part guilt, part confusion, part lust. Part hope.

It would have to be enough.

I softly pressed my lips to his one last time before I finally set him free.

"Let's go." He said.

It wasn't a command.