Cry of a dead soul
"And I pray one prayer.... may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you -- haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt there murderer, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always -- take any form -- drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is inutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"
-- Wuthering Heights; Emily Bronte
These words come the closest to describing the pain that I witnessed this week. No... not pain... pain is too soft a word.
It was more like death; like a soul died no matter how determined the body was to live. Is it possible to live after one has lost her soul... her life... her being?
I was walking down the dorm hallway, when I heard... well... I honestly don't think I can tell you what I heard. It wasn't crying, for upon further inspection, I observed no tears. No, it was a groan... a plea... a wail from the depth of a dying heart.
Chills ran down my spine as my suite-mates and I entered the "Prayer Room" on our floor.
I will never walk into that room again without hearing the gutteral cry of her agony.
She was more animal than human. No... that's not right... no animal could eject the emotion she did. Curled up in the fetal position, shivering, moaning, grinding her teeth, drooling, coughing, almost vomitting on herself, she was a corpse that had uinwillingly been brought back to life and then killed again... by way of removal of the soul.
Finally, Amy Beth managed to whisper, "Do you feel like you can talk?"
The contrast of her "rational" human voice with the animal-like howl of the previous moment, caught us all a bit off guard.
The girl paused, only for enough time to glance around the room at her helpless observers. Her eyes quickly fell to the floor again as she opened her mouth to explain...
She tried, the poor soul, she tried with all her might to tell us of the source of her agony...
She lifted her head, and opened her mouth as if to relieve herself from some poison that had offended her taste... but as quickly as her head had lifted, it fell back to the floor as she heaved out her hell-freezing brokenness.
We all sat and watched. What else could we do? What else should we do? Ashley and I brought some tissue as Amy Beth grabbed a bottle of water.
Occasionally the broken girl... I later learned her name is Evanna... drank the water and wiped her dry face. (I figured she must be dehydrated since her face showed no sign of tears.)
Finally, after sitting and staring for what seemed to be an eternity, Amy Beth stated again, "If you need to talk, you can go ahead. You can trust us."
Evanna seemed to laugh in mockery at the word "trust".
Waiting through several more heaves and sighs, we finally heard the answer.
"My boyfriend... we dated for years... he... he..." At this point she wailed a few undescernable words. "And I found out... that it had been for a year." At this point she broke into another round of inexpressable moans.
Amy Beth: "What happened?"
"He's been seeing her for a whole year!"
Suddenly she contorted her body in an angry torrent as she screamed out:
"I begged him not to do it! He's the whole reason I'm here! I would not be at this stupid school if it weren't for him!!!! My parents didn't want me to come! I didn't want to come! But he begged and begged..." Her voice trailed off to an almost inaudible whisper
"So I came."
Oh, the cruel irony of brokenness:
"I begged and begged for him to stay with me. But he didn't."
Once again she flew into an uncontrollable rage, "He gave me a ring! A promise ring! He promised! I asked him what I should do with it! Should I wear it?
"And he said I shouldn't!"
She screamed these last words in such a way that I felt my soul cower. I cannot explain that feeling. It was as if something inside me shrank back in utter terror. It was the ugliest feeling I had ever experienced. It was as if something deep within... something that I had repressed for many years... some whisper that I have somehow been able to ignore... sprang forth and bellowed, "That could be you! This is your life! How dare you trust your heart away... Don't you see what happens?"
Now I feel almost guilty for wandering away from the young girls pain and finding myself wrapped up in my own fear.
Nonetheless, I felt the tears sting my own eyes, and I tasted the salt as they rolled to the corners of my mouth and down my chin.
Oh, so much pain. In the broken, fetal-frozen girl. In my own fear. In love.
Brandon got mad at me last night. He told me he loved me. I asked, "Really?"
He pulled away. "Why would you even ask that... for the third time this week...end?"
Had I really asked it that much?
"Why are you doubting?"
"I'm just thinking about that girl."
"Come here," He whispered as he pulled me closer to him.
"Do you feel that?"
What? The warm breath? The bristly chin? The moving adams-apple?
"I will never hold anyone else like this. I never have. I never will.
"This heart beats only for you."
Wouldn't that comfort you? Wouldn't that help you? Shouldn't it make all the fear go away?
It didn't.
I don't know why.
I didn't.
Now I think about those feelings. Are they rational? Do I have reason to fear? Has Brandon ever done anything to make me think he would ever leave me?
Yes, they are rational. If by rational, you mean observing the consequences of others' decisions and therefore basing my own opposite to theirs.
Yes, I do have reason to fear. It wouldn't be the first time a "perfect" couple was broken by disloyal actions.
No, Brandon has done nothing to evoke this fear. However, I'm sure that girl would not have trusted her "love" had he ever given her reason not to. I'm sure my mom would have never married my dad had she known he was capable of infidelity.
So I find myself at a crossroad. I look at my reasoning; I consider the agony I witnessed this week; I think of the horror in her eyes as she whispered her barely-discernable words, "I just wasn't expecting it. I never saw it coming. Why couldn't I see?"
Then I look into his trusting eyes; I consider the safety in his embrace; I think of the pain in his eyes when I couldn't respond to his question, "Do you believe me when I say I'll never leave you?"
I think... I think... I'm not sure... I think it's worth the risk.
Then I remember her eyes... her tearless eyes.
And I wonder.