Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

Life Goes On

The heart is the only broken instrument that works. ~T.E. Kalem. Esme's broken heart and the hurt that follows.

A sad story told from Esme's perspective.

1. Chapter 1

Rating 0/5   Word Count 664   Review this Chapter

The heart is the only broken instrument that works. ~T.E. Kalem

I hurt. Every part of my body aches. My stomach. My head. My feet. It all hurts. But the pain in my chest outshines all. My heart feels too broken for it to even be functioning. Each torturous beat pumps a fresh wave of pain throughout my body, nearly crippling me. How much pain can one endure before completely shutting down? I'm walking a very thin line. I'm about to fall.

The funeral was this morning. It's not fair. He was too young. He didn't deserve this, nor did I. My poor baby. My little Oliver. He was perfect. His soft caramel hair. His round cheeks. His beautiful big blue eyes. His tiny hands and feet. His button nose. His sweet baby scent. He fit perfectly into the crook of my arm...

A sob tears its way up my throat. My baby is gone. His premature lungs weren't strong enough to function in this harsh world. If only I had nourished him for nine months instead of merely seven. It is my fault.

Along this empty road I walk. The sun is shining quite brightly and a warm breeze caresses my face. The town is oblivious to my loss. They are unaware of the catastrophic tragedy that has plagued me. They go about doing their business whilst I can barely breathe. I feel so cold. Shouldn't the world just stop? Shouldn't it be cloudy and dark and raining? Does my suffering mean nothing?

My tired legs continue to push onward. I don't know where I am going or what I am doing. I just walk, and before I realize it, I am looking out into the Atlantic Ocean. The aqua-jade water shimmers beneath the sun. In the horizon, dolphins and porpoises jump into the air, surveying the environment around them.

My bare feet are cut up from the sharp stones of the cliff. My eyes are blinded by the reflection. And my heart is still weeping. Moisture seems into my eyes and spills over. My tears burn a path down my cheeks. My ears are ringing, but not enough to drown out the noise from the town behind me. I draw in a deep, shuddering breath. I can taste the sea water.

I close my eyes. My little Oliver stares back. A moan escapes my lips, and laughter escapes the mouth of the town. Life goes on.

I jump. The wind whooshes around my ears as the air leaves my lungs. I hit the water and physical pain jolts through me. My body has broken. I'm grateful though, because soon I will join my little baby, and we will be angels of God. My vision fades, and soon blackness envelopes me.

My body still hurts. Death shouldn't be this painful. Perhaps I am in hell. Suicide, after all, is the most unforgivable sin.


I hear a musical voice close by. My eyes are heavy, but I am able to open them slightly. Where I am is neither light nor dark. Purgatory. My Fate is being decided by the Almighty.

An angel keeps me company. A beautiful angel.

Darkness envelopes me once more, and now I am flying. God must have decided already, and this angel is courting me to my destiny. I try to speak to him, but I cannot. So I wait, content to be in his arms.

Pain then slashes my neck before the fire starts. My body is burning. I am in purgatory no longer. God has dropped me into the fiery pits of Hell, where I am to survive an eternity of perpetual burning. But my angel stays. His face is all I see. Hell will be no punishment if he stays with me in this burning inferno.