2012.05.06. 20:39, Sadie
***
We never think it will end this way; a single, battered soul fading into nothingness with no more than a whimper. It’s a meaningless soul, a soul so small in the grand scheme of life that no one really notices its disappearance.
This is the story of how I fell in love.
I was twenty-five years old when I died.
***
I had been living in New York for about two months when I first met him.
The street corner was busy that day, I had over ten onlookers and he was among them. He was slightly taller than me with perfectly styled brown hair and eyes the color of an ocean I’d only ever seen in pictures. He was slight in frame, but from the way his shirt clung to his arms I could tell there was more to this man beneath his stylish ensemble. He remained a member of my audience for the last three songs of my set and when I shifted my guitar around to my back, he dropped a fifty dollar bill into my case.
***
Three months into my life in New York though, the loneliness began to wear on my nerves and my sanity.
Without friends, I took to walking the streets alone, stopping to look in shop windows or take mental photographs of the giant, glittering signs in Times Square. New York was always so loud and crowded. The streets made me feel less lonely, even if they served as a reminder that I was very alone in the world.
***
“You work at a restaurant as a waiter. You play guitar on the streets. You drink black coffee, no additives, no sweeteners, nothing of the sort,” he said. “But that’s what you do. I want to know who you are.”
“I thought coffee orders told a lot about someone,” I remarked.
“Then based on that alone, you’re either completely boring and unremarkable or you have a dark past and you embody an enigma.”
***
“You’re flustered,” he said, not moving a muscle. “Why are you flustered?”
I hated feeling stupid. I hated not knowing what to say and I hated having to explain myself to other people. I knew I avoided people for a reason, I knew why I avoided human connections. The longer I stood there the longer I felt like a complete fool in front of Kurt Hummel. He stared at me, unblinking, and even now I can’t understand why I felt so compelled to give in to anything he asked.
“I’m flustered because I don’t know what to do or say,” I admitted. “I’m flustered because I don’t talk to people easily and I’m flustered because I’m anxious and nervous and a dozen other things for no reason at all.”
***
You’re so lonely,” he breathed, shaking his head. “So lost and lonely.”
“Stop it,” I said, becoming afraid.
“You sleep alone, you eat alone, you sing alone. You’ve never been touched by a gentle hand and you live in a shadowed world that you’ve created for yourself.”
***
You’ve never been kissed, have you?” he asked.
My heart began to race and I stared into his eyes. “No,” I said, hoping the night would swallow my words and the pathetic trace of shame in my voice.
“Would you like to be?”
Maybe it was the wine, but at that question, it felt like my entire world tilted, like I’d fallen into another dimension where I was beautiful and wanted and kissable. It was a place where I had friends. It was a place where nothing was ever cold and starlight gave me strength.
I wanted it to be real.
So I said, “Yes.”
***
I nodded, speechless at his lovely words and he tugged me against his chest. I felt his cheek rest on the top of my head. I breathed in his scent, drowning in the smell of honeysuckle and rain water. It felt like a fairy tale, like maybe I’d found a happy ending to the horrible, lonely life I’d lead so far.
If only I’d remembered that fairy tales weren’t real.
***
I feel like I’m going off on a tangent, telling this story. So far I’ve only mentioned the good things when really it’s all about the bad. I suppose the good is just as important as the bad, though, considering the good leads to the bad. If I hadn’t trusted Kurt as much as I did, if I didn’t put all my eggs in one basket, if I didn’t put so much stock in person…well, I might still be alive.
But I didn’t.
And I’m dead now.
No, don’t cry, don’t feel sorry for me. Everything happened because I let it happen. I had choices and I made the wrong ones, that’s all. Besides, being dead isn’t all that bad. It’s nice here, honestly. I don’t really know where here is, but I can always see the stars and it’s always autumn here, which is my favorite season. I don’t know if I’m alone, I haven’t wandered far from where I woke up but it’s…really quiet. It’s peaceful.
It’s far more peaceful than life ever was.
***
Kurt was perfect. He was beautiful, he was charming, he was attentive, he was loving, he was affectionate, he was funny, he was witty, he was intelligent, and he seemed to care so much for me.
Well, I think he did care for me.
In his own way.
I can’t remember being happier.
I also can’t remember being more blind.
***
Before Kurt, my life had been dull and monotonous, all black and white and completely boring like my coffee order. But I was finally beginning to see the light in the world and with every shelf, with every mirror, with every little piece of pointless decoration he dragged into my apartment, my life became a little bit brighter.
It felt like I was finally finding a personality. It was a simple transformation of space but Kurt wasn’t trying to change how I lived, he was just changing the way I saw the world.
I thought it was genius.
***
It’s raining while they bury me. Figures. My life was always under one giant raincloud. I suppose it’s fitting that the last time I’m above ground is during a rainstorm.
My parents are there. They…they’re not even burying me where the rest of my family is buried. It looks like some little cemetery on the edges of nowhere in the middle of nothing familiar.
That’s kind of heartbreaking. Except I don’t have a heart anymore. I don’t feel much here. I guess I’m apathetic now or maybe I can just see everything without it stirring any kind of emotions.
Wes and David are there. Weird. I never would have expected a couple of guys from high school to show up when I suddenly died. It’s not like I had some incurable disease that brought on any pity.
Oh, I guess I could tell you how I died.
Blunt force trauma to the head, I believe is the phrasing the doctors would use.
Kurt…Kurt’s there.
He’s the only one crying.
***
They lower the casket holding my body into the ground.
I wonder what I’m wearing. I hope it’s something nice. I think I deserve at least that.
Everyone disperses, including the priest and once everyone is gone, Kurt finally steps forward. Just as a couple of guys are walking up to dump a bunch of dirt into the hole, he places a single red rose at the base of the headstone.
I wish I could feel.
He leaves and I can finally see the epitaph on the headstone below my name and my birth and death dates.
A young soul, lost but never forgotten.
Well, I guess it could be worse.
***
“You know,” he said, dropping the scissors on the counter, “I don’t try and change you. I don’t try and force you out of your apartment when you feel like the world is too much and all you want to do is stay inside. I accept the fact that you’re some kind of shut in. To be honest, it can be a bit trying at times but I don’t make a big fuss about it because that’s who you are. You’re the lonely, lost boy and maybe you like being that way. Whatever. That’s your issue. But if I’m trying so hard to accept you, maybe you could stop objecting to one of the things that makes me me.”
***
I know that, so far, it seems like money was the issue in our relationship but really that was never the problem. It never settled with me right at first, but we were together for three years and it was just something I got used to. I hope it doesn’t seem like I was taking advantage of Kurt’s wealth because that’s definitely not what it was.
I think you can see how stubborn I was in the beginning, but after that it just seemed useless to keep bringing it up.
So I didn’t.
I’m not a bad person, I promise. I never wanted him to be my…sugar daddy or anything like that. Before Kurt came along, I made my way in the world just fine on my own. I paid my bills, I bought groceries, and I worked long hours.
But…Kurt just made things a little easier.
There’s no harm in that, right?
Little did I know the money issue would be a catalyst for something far more problematic.
***
Julian looked at me with something akin to intrigue. “You should have been here when he brought in his last boyfriend,” he said. “I’ve never seen him so excited to have a new toy.”
“…Toy?” I repeated meekly, glancing back at Kurt who had apparently noticed I was talking with someone.
“Not to say you’re a toy,” Julian said quickly, attempting to cover up his faux pas. “Actually, he seems pretty invested in you. He’s always talking about how he has to get home because he’s taking you somewhere or how he took you out shopping or things of that nature. He seems pretty sweet on you.”
“So he – he doesn’t talk like I’m some kind of toy?” I asked, needing reassurance.
“No, not at all,” he said suavely. “Though…it is rather odd how similar you are to his last boyfriend.”
“In what way?”
“You’re both quiet, really shy, and it seems like you both don’t like crowds all that much,” he expanded. “Not to mention, you both have those eyes.”
“What…eyes?”
“The pretty kind,” he said with a smile. “The kind that make you look like a lost, loving puppy.”
***
Tears burned my eyes as I reached the elevator, pressing the down button frantically. We always do that, don’t we? We always press the button more than once as if it will somehow force the elevator to appear sooner and it never helps. Luckily, the doors opened and I threw myself inside and slammed the button for the first floor.
Biting down on my finger, I did my very best not to burst into hysterics there in the elevator. I began to suffocate in the small space and I don’t think I’ve ever jumped out of an elevator so impatiently before. I ran out and shoved the doors to the gallery open, choking on the cool night air.
The street sounded like a multitude of car bombs exploding in my head and I wanted to break down and hide myself from the noise and the lights and the fear.
***
Just as I began walking, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I knew it was Kurt but at that moment I had only one goal and talking on the phone was not on the agenda. Walking quickly, I shoved past the people, the people, so many people. Oh god, I had been absolutely insane to move to this city. What did New York hold for a hermit like me? I knew I looked odd in my classy suit with head down and rushing through the crowds but I avoided any and all eye contact with passersby until the swarm of bodies began to thin.
The closer I got to my apartment, the louder my phone seemed to vibrate and the more intent I became on ignoring his calls.
***
His fingers dug into my skin even more and when I attempted to slither out of reach, he simply pulled me closer and held on tighter. I bit my lip to suppress a pained cry.
“Don’t listen to him,” he said forcefully. “Don’t listen to a damn thing he says. He-”
“You’re hurting me,” I whimpered, my lips beginning to pout as tears spilled down my cheeks.
“Please let me-”
“Oh my god,” he breathed, looking at his hands on my arms. He pulled them away, as if he had his fingers submerged in hot, flickering flames and took a step back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t – oh god, I’m sorry.”
I sniffled pathetically, wiping at my wet, red eyes and avoided returning his gaze. My arms throbbed as the blood began to flow again and I wrapped my arms around my thin waist, covering my naked torso.
***
Kurt was wrong to handle me that way, I can see that now.
I just thought things would go back to normal.
I only ever wanted to be happy with him and if I didn’t talk to anyone else from Kurt’s past, that would be an easy task, you know? We could ignore that single blip of an episode and we could be happy again.
I just wanted to be happy.
That’s all I wanted, I swear.
***
I had never before been so conflicted. He had hurt me. He had hurt me out of blind anger and as a result, I’d probably have a ring of bruises around my wrist the next day. I knew what people had said about being in abusive relationships. I’d watched the Lifetime movies and I’d seen the PSAs and I knew the best thing to do was to just…leave.
Because he hurt me.
But after arguing with myself for those few, scant seconds, I came to the conclusion that he didn’t do it deliberately. It wasn’t his intention to inflict pain. He was just – he had been a little too vigorous and a little too forceful, that’s all. I knew that Kurt liked coming home to a clean house and what’s more, I knew just how expensive that coffee table was. I never would have forgiven myself if I had damaged it in some way, even if it was something as simple as spilling the remains of the coffee.
He had a right to be angry, I concluded. I should have cleaned up after myself. Maybe he was an idiot for unintentionally causing me pain, but I was an idiot for not doing the one thing I was able to contribute to our little household.
We both had things to work on.
***
I was too late.
When I walked in the front door, he was pacing in front of the fire on his phone. At the sound of the door, he whipped his head around. His eyes were blazing with rage.
I don’t know how I knew what was coming…but I did.
“I – I was at a festival with Julie and Marcus,” I stammered, fishing the seashell necklace out of my coat pocket as he stormed over to me. “It was on the other side of town but I got you-”
And that was the first time he slapped me.
His slap held so much force that it jarred my entire body. I fell back against the door and the pretty little necklace slipped from my fingers. It fell to the floor and shattered, pieces of seashell scattering around my feet. I eased my stinging cheek with the touch of my cool hand.
I shivered there in his embrace. He had just smacked me across the face but he was hugging me. He was hugging me like he hadn’t hugged me in ages. I could hear the crunch of seashells beneath our feet but I let him cradle me against his chest like a child because I needed to be held, I needed him. I was scared and my cheek still stung but I needed his arms around me to make it better.
He was my everything.
I needed him.
“Don’t scare me like that,” he said and I thought I heard him crying. “I go crazy when I’m scared for you. Don’t make me do that again.”
I nodded, clinging to him because I had no other choice.
I needed him.
And I had nowhere else to go.
I had nothing.
***
I should have left and I didn’t. So Kurt isn’t completely at fault for everything that happened after the fact. You probably think I’m stupid. You might think I suffer from that kicked-puppy-syndrome, you know? That one where puppies who get kicked still return to their abusers with their pleading puppy dog eyes because all they want in the world is to be loved and cared for? Yeah, that one.
Well…maybe I did suffer from kicked-puppy-syndrome.
Who doesn’t want to be loved and praised and held? I certainly did.
***
Valentine’s Day was lovely, though. While Kurt was at work, half a dozen men showed up at our front door to deliver three hundred roses, all in shimmering crystal vases. They placed them on the coffee table, the dining room table, the kitchen counters, the fireplace mantle, shelves, and eventually they had to start sitting them on the floor. When they left, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. The room smelled like a heavenly garden and I nearly knocked three vases over trying to get into the kitchen.
The gesture was romantic and cliché but I loved it. If only I would have known that those same three hundred roses would lead to one of the saddest points in my relationship with Kurt.
Besides death, anyway.
***
Unbidden, tears began to fall. The sounds of my sniffles joined the harsh sounds of glass in the room as I felt that same glass prick my skin. Blood bubbled up, staining my fingers, palms, and the small shards I disposed of hastily.
Scoop, toss. Scoop, toss. Scoop, toss.
I repeated the same motions for the next few minutes until there was nothing more I could do.
By the time Kurt finally tied off the trash bag, my hands were covered in crimson and I could feel tiny bits of glass lodged in the surface of my skin.
Kurt’s shadow disappeared. I cradled my hands to my chest and cried silently, shoulders shaking with the sobs I refused to give a voice. I heard the scraping of a chair on the kitchen floor and the sound of silverware clinking against a plate.
He ate the dinner I had cooked while I bled and sobbed on the entryway floor.
I was afraid to move. I was afraid to breathe.
***
When we went home that night, I received no apology. I went to bed without ever having touched the food I had made. We curled up in bed, my back to Kurt’s front, and he kissed the back of my neck.
“Love you,” he whispered.
I stared at the wall.
“Love you, too,” I echoed because I had no choice.
I never played the guitar again.
***
That was the worst thing to me. I had the surgery, of course, but when I cut my finger that night, I think I lost my heart. Maybe it bled out on the floor or something, I don’t know. Maybe Kurt hid it away from me with that soft ‘I love you’ whispered on the skin of my neck.
Up here, though, I don’t really have a need for a heart.
***
The world became bleak and suffocating. I couldn’t keep track of the days. I knew it was the weekend when Kurt was home and he’d take me shopping for more unnecessary clothes and a new guitar I never touched. The weekdays melded together and the months drifted by in a depressing, lonely, gray haze.
I was unhappy. I was terribly unhappy.
And I had nothing. I had no more money, I had no friends, and I had no place to go.
***
I considered leaving the confines of the prison he had created for me. I should have become a waiter again or perhaps tried for a job at my favorite bookstore. I could have saved up some money and found myself an efficiency apartment in a bad part of town because getting robbed would probably have hurt less than broken glass in my palms.
But I didn’t. I had no energy. I had no will to leave and I had no confidence in myself to make a life in the real world again, not after everything Kurt had done for me.
I desperately wanted to leave but my body never allowed me to do so.
***
“Fuck you, Kurt!”
And he slapped me. It stung more than the bile still creeping up my throat.
“I gave you everything!” he hollered, advancing on me as I stumbled back and away from him, rigid with fear. “I give you a nice place to live and brand new clothes! I gave you money and I gave you sex and you think you can talk to me like that? You think you can just treat me like I’m nothing? I gave you everything! Every fucking thing! I gave you a room so you could hole yourself up like some wretched, disgraceful recluse! I gave you space and time and nice things and flowers! I gave you everything!”
“You took away everything I ever had!”
My head throbbed, my cheek burned, I tasted blood inside my mouth from where my teeth had cut my lip when he smacked me. Everything was falling apart. Kurt was a liar and he was mean to me. He was so mean to me and as soon as I yelled at him that one last time, he shoved me back with too much force for me to keep my balance.
I stumbled, toes catching on the edge of the rug, and I fell back.
I smashed the side of my head against the sharp edge of that perfect, pristine coffee table and a sickening crack echoed throughout the room as the corner punctured my hairfleshbone and –
And everything went black.
I died instantly. The damage was irreparable. I lost too much blood. The corner of that coffee table dug
straight into my skull and I was dead.
I was dead.
***
I don’t know if you’re still listening. It was a long story, I suppose. My funeral was probably better than my life. At least I got the chance to feel loved, even if it was just for a little while, even if it wasn’t real. I’m sorry if it was anticlimactic for you. It wasn’t something I was really expecting, but that was my life. It might not mean anything to you, but it meant everything to me.
I think the important thing, though, is that…I know it wasn’t me. Looking back on it all, I never did anything so bad to warrant the slaps or the shouts or the glass in my palms. Perhaps I trusted too quickly and too easily, but if that’s my only fault, then I guess I turned out alright.
I can breathe now. I can look around the little room that heaven has made for me and I can breathe. I can look upon a vase full of red and yellow roses and be curious without feeling heavy. I can see the empty birdcage and I can lounge on the leather sofa and I know that I’ll be okay.
I’ll be okay.
Love & Rockets,
Sadie
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