Voids, emptiness and running into sunsets

Mara's POV.

I wasn't sure why I had been crying. I wasn't even sure if what I felt on my face were my tears or the droplets from the shower, but one thing I was sure of were the voids and emptiness I was feeling. I felt numb inside, and drained entirely; emotionally, physically, mentally and if it was possible, spiritually too.

I had lost. I was the loser. Practically the story of my life.

Loss!

The most important person in my life, like every other one of them, had left me too. I was alone. Everyone left me. Everyone died and left me alone. Everyone died excerpt me.

Why?

My sacrifice was wasted.

The only joy I had left; I had lost it, lost her to the icy hands of death! It had taken her away from me for good.

I really felt like trash and nothing could bring back to me my sanity. I had so many things going on in my head at that moment, but just one weighed enough to make mad and it was haunting me like a demonic spirit. The horrible memories of that night; the vanity of my sacrifice; my sanity was drifting further and further away by the seconds. For as long as I still had those images in my head, everything was purely bleak.

Tears would just run down my eyes of their own accord. My body would do things without me knowing about them. It was like, I wasn't in my body anymore. I was just standing on the side of me watching everything unfold and could do nothing about it. I could no longer control my own emotions.

That night; that night that constantly haunts me; the night I lost everything, I got no pleasure from it; only pain and agony, regrets and disdain. Still nothing could surpass the regret I got from it: it was all in vain.

"Mara! Mara!" I snapped out of my trans to the voice of my friend Issa. "You have to stop doing this to yourself," she grumbled, passed me and grabbed a cup from my hand, "You have to let go off the past; it's past and forgotten. No one is blaming you for anything. No one is judging or doing whatever it is you might be thinking inside that head of yours. So please, snap out of it." She grabbed something else out of my hand.

What was with her?

It was probably because I was filling up my mug of hot water with powder soap and liquid bleach; unknowingly of course.

I had been so deep in my mind that I hadn't noticed the hazardous deeds I was doing. And I could have very possibly drank that mixture and still not notice anything fishy about its taste; my taste buds had died with my joy.

It had become a regular thing lately. My mind had been doing that a lot to me lately:

Steal my attention from whatsoever I was doing so I could unintentional end my life: or intentionally; I didn't care much about anything. I just went with the flow of it all.

"You know I didn't mean it," was all I could say before emptying the content of the mug into the sink, then heading out after. I was going to ditch breakfast again and food in general, for like the millionth time in a row.

"Now where are you going?" Issa questioned.

Issa had been a dear friend for a long time. She'd taken me in when we had no place to stay and no source of income or support. She had gotten me back on my feet when I really needed to. She had cared, a lot.

And now, that scared me for her. I learnt the hard way that caring too much gets you hurt. I mean look at me. I was a messed up girl, barely eighteen and slowly drifting towards insanity. Junkies had a better mindset than I ever had. I was nail and finger close to joining the junkies squad in our apartment building, if not for Issa.

But I knew I didn't want to hurt Issa. She was the last person I had in this planet. I had grown almost suicidal over the past few months and the only person who still kept me hanging on the brink was my Issa.

Still sometimes, all I could imagine was the relief I'd get from death; all that weight lifted off my shoulders, was like a beautiful dream, or scary nightmare.

"I'm going to work." I told her, throwing a brown backpack over my shoulder,

"But today is supposed to be your day off!" she said firmly.

"You know I cannot just sit at home and count the seconds Issa. You know that right? I'd rather just take a walk down the park. I need air." I told her back. Issa was the one who always told me to find a way to distract myself from thinking too much. I figured if I gave her a good excuse, I'd be able to get her out of my hair. I seriously needed that time to just get away for a while.

I was going to do just that.

"Mara," Issa called, I halted for a second, she continued, "It's been two months already. Please just let it go! Find it in your heart to relief yourself off any pain or regret." I nodded in response even though nothing of what she'd said had gotten to me. She couldn't understand that it wasn't the pain or guilt or whatever: it was the curse! Everyone I knew and loved ways died and left me.

We couldn't talk further. I needed to get out. I walked out of the room, out of the building and into the busy streets of Manhattan; with no destination whatsoever. I just follow the lead of my legs to the left, blankly staring into space. It was intentional; just in case I got lost and never found my way back. Or died in a deserted place with no one around to help me: no one around to save me.

Finally joining them. The rest of my loved ones.

I kept walking like I was the only person on the roads. But something happened and I stopped, more like I dropped. I found myself on the floor when I felt a hard slap from my knee, upper thighs right up to my stomach. I landed butt first on the hard concrete.

I never took noticed of the car that had just parked closely ahead of me and had swung its door open.

My head spun and my vision blurred. The only thing I heard vaguely was a voice; a familiar voice,

"Miss are you OK?" The man asked, his baritone voice senfingbchills down my spine, "Call an ambulance!" He told some other person standing next to him, "Miss can you hear me? Are you OK?"

Epic fail! I thought.

Yes I was. I was very physically OK though I wished I wasn't.

He took my hand and lifted me up from the floor. And my vision regained its clarity. I looked around to see if I hadn't just died and gone to wherever people go to when they die.

But no!

I could still see that huge billboard showing an advert of those hair products I used to use but could no longer afford. I looked at the person whose hand was still firmly but gently holding mine. I glanced at his face and- I froze.

I would recognize it from anywhere since it had been haunting my dreams for months. Plus, he had barely changed an atom.

It was him! Nothing could convince me otherwise. He only looked a lot sober and responsible. His dirty blonde taper wavy looked neat, well combed and silky, although his face was hairy, it looked well kept and traced.

He was good looking, nothing like the monster of my regrets and nightmares. Still, I couldn't hell the way I felt. My emotions were overwhelming.

My heartbeat increased and lower tummy churned.

His voice was inside my head, like everything he was saying to me that night, while digging himself deep inside of me, everything was just a mockery; sneering mockingly at me, calling nasty and undermining names like I was some whore who stood at the side of the road, advertising my body for any man who wanted it.

The voices sneered inside my head as I tried recollecting what little I had left of my sanity. The memories became real and I could almost see them all transpire before my eyes. Rivers of tear swelled in my orbs.

I shut him completely out. I yanked myself from him. I ran off, like one of those fairytale stories where the heroine runs off into the sunset.

I am no heroine; this wasn't a fairytale and the sun was way overhead this morning in Manhattan.

I ended up amidst a busy highway. I got hit! I felt something big ram into me, but the feeling and pan of it was brief. Black spots quickly clouded my vision until everything turned completely black.

The last things I heard were the street noises fading into emptiness and a voice, his baritone voice shouting 'help'.