Honestly speaking, a bit of this was inspired by MeatLips' "Ghost Girl". Shortly before reading that horrible (In that it was a brutally heart-wrenching) story, I had just finished my first read-through of the Berserk manga. So that, plus MeatLips' story; I had an absolutely terrifying and vivid dream that still plagues my thoughts.
I welled up more than a few times while writing this utterly depressing piece of literature. Confident that these words had to have actually rang true for some poor soul, at some point in this despicable world. That what I suffered as a nightmare, has surely been someone elses reality.
Anyway, this story is mine. These feelings are mine, and I sincerely hope that they are no one elses.
Three Little Words
I knew the moment I tried my key in the lock that something was wrong. My heart instantly began to slam against my ribcage; my body went so completely numb, I could barely move my legs. Then there was the sound of my gasping breath, pulsating in time with the violent pounding of my heart. Somehow my wrist kept moving, the key haphazardly pressed to the lock, pushing the unlatched door open.
There you were.
Your broken and battered body lay on the kitchen table; hardly covered by your shredded clothes, saturated in your own blood, drenched in them. Before I could even attempt to set foot in the door, the contents of my stomach, nearly the entire organ itself emerged from my lips along with my heart.
"I hate you."
Those were the last words I spoke to you, and now you lay before me; a broken and twisted doll. A deformed and demented caricature of the woman I married. The woman I swore my heart to, till death do us part.
Doubling over, forcing every last ounce of the contents of my stomach onto the floor of our kitchen, and onto the flowers I bought for you; I sobered up. My legs carried me over to you, slower than they should have, but there you were. Your typically pale flesh, covered with bruises, covered with blood, covered with…
Just thinking about it makes me want to vomit. It's been three weeks since I found you like that my love, my wife, my soul. You are everything to me, and that fight, that stupid, trivial argument; I'll never forgive myself for those three words I said to you.
I wish I could tell you this to your face. I wish you were awake so you could lay into me like you always do at time like this. I wish I could see the disappointment in your eyes. I wish I could hear you scold me for being so stupid.
But I can't you see.
They broke your jaw. They broke it so that even with the surgeries they're putting you through, you'll never speak with that sweet voice ever again. I'll never hear your retort when I tell you how sorry I am. Of course, that hardly matters now any way.
You've been asleep since the day I found you.
Every day I fall asleep in this chair. Every day I wake up, startled by the dream that you took my hand into yours. That you came to, and even if you couldn't speak, I could give you my eyes, so that they could tell you just how sorry I am.
Your eyes are the only things that keep me going every day. They fly beneath their lids, faster than I'd ever seen. The doctors tell me that the patterns in your brain indicate that you're dreaming. I asked so many times, looking back I can only imagine how crazy I must have sounded, asking the doctors if it was a good dream or a bad dream.
I've never been a man of god, but every day I pray that it's a good dream. That wherever you are, you feel none of the pain they caused you. That wherever you are, you don't remember what they did to you. That wherever you are, you don't remember those awful words I said.
I love you, wife. I miss you. I miss your smile. I miss your face. I miss your touch. I miss you so much, and all I can do is sit here and cry. It's not punishment enough though. I should have never left you like that. I shouldn't have let my temper win…
I should have done so much…
When I woke up this morning, it was to the sound of a commotion in your room. When the chaos rolled through, I was being forced back by a male nurse as the doctors rushed you from the room. The police are apparently going to have a talk with me later for what I did to him. All I wanted was an answer as to what had happened to you, and an hour later, I got it.
Your heart had stopped.
They did bring you back, but after hearing all that they had to say, that single iota of light became the worst of the news. Your eyes, your beautiful blue eyes, they're not moving anymore. Your brain is broken, and now, even if you were to wake up somehow, you would be brain dead.
I don't care.
I'll never leave you again. I'll spend the rest of my life waiting for you to be better again. You owe me one of your lectures about how precious life is.
The doctors let me into the intensive care unit to see you tonight. Though my eyes are dry of tears, I promise it's not because I don't wish them on my face. I simply have no more left to shed. Last night, I could almost feel the strength in your hands, but now, I feel like I'm holding the hand of a mannequin; stiff, and cold.
I'm sorry I won't be allowed to stay with you tonight. I'll be right outside those doors though. I'll always be here for you when you wake up; I swear.
You hear me?
I'll be here, and whenever you wake up, you can do whatever you like to me. If you like, I'll ask the officer downstairs to lend you his gun. You can shoot me, hit me, whatever you want, just please wake up, okay?
The doctors came to see me again this morning. I…I don't know how I feel about this news.
Apparently one of the men who did this to you managed to get you pregnant. I'm sorry that I'm smiling at a time like this, but you always wanted a little girl, and now, you have one living inside you. I'm sorry that it had to be this way. That you received this gift by one of…instead of…
But…the doctors tell me that…they keep telling me…that everything is going to be alright…
They keep telling me that I should stay positive. That some of your tests are looking up and that tomorrow is another day. I wonder if they ever had to look at the bandaged face of their lover, broken beyond repair, and pregnant with the seed of a rapist.
I wonder if they would keep that same sunny disposition if it were their wife.
I don't know how many times I can say it. When you wake up, you'll have to let me know if those words have lost their meaning. You can always punish or reprimand me for that as well. Anything you want, just as soon as you wake up.
Sadly though, the news only gets worse, and that is why I'm sorry right now.
The child is…
With you as you are…it just couldn't…
Your heart stopped again last night. The doctors finally dropped their sunny disposition. I suppose they wait until all hope is lost before they start to tell it like it is.
Your brain is completely dead.
They had determined with the forensic examiner, that the men who did this to you…
…they slammed your head against the table. They did it over and over again.
You were the one who wanted that table. I told you it was too big and too hard…I told…I tried to tell you…But you…
…why won't you just wake up?!
Please, just do…just do something. I don't care what…just…
I have good news today, wife. I stole the security guard's gun, so I can come see you now. I expect you to scream at me when I find you, so don't let me down, okay?
I deserve it, and whatever you have to say, I'll do whatever I can to make this right; I promise.
I'll be there with you soon; you, me, and our little girl. I know she's not mine, but I know that as long as she's yours, I can bring myself to love her; I know I can. I'll do my best to be a good father for her, and to be the husband I should have been for you.
From here on out, I'm going to be different. I'll always be there for you now. I'll always be by your side. I'll never say those dumb words again. I'll never hurt you ever again; I swear.
Ha…the barrel of one of these things is colder than I thought it would be. No mind though, I'll be there in just a minute.
I love you, wife.
I really wish I had some more words to go along with this; to explain why I wrote this, but really, I don't even know. I think in reading the earlier mentioned stories, and having those dreams I realized just how much my wife truly means to me. How I really have not the slightest clue how I'd behave if even a fraction of something like this ever happened to her.
I suppose one might say that this is a story of love, drenched in blood. All I know for sure is that it is the most depressing thing I've ever written
Here's hoping the message came through,