I Love You to Death

by Natalie Ward

  The paramedics make him go to the hospital and Luke makes me come with him. We go in the ambulance and Luke doesn’t let go of me. They take him straight into the emergency department and still, he doesn’t let go of my hand. I’m still crying I think, but I follow him anyway.

  The doctors come in and treat him. They try to get me to leave, but Luke doesn’t let them. His left arm is burnt, although the doctor tells us it isn’t too bad. A large bandage is wrapped around his left arm, from his wrist to his elbow. They say he’s lucky. It shouldn’t be permanently scarred or damaged and it will completely heal. He is very lucky. He never lets go of my hand.

  Eventually all the doctors and nurses leave. They draw the curtains around his bed and they leave us alone. As soon as they’ve gone, Luke pulls me onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms around me.

  "Asha," he whispers to me. "It’s okay, I’m okay." He runs his hand through my hair. I can’t stop the tears. "Ash," he says, more force in his voice now. "What’s going on, talk to me, please."

  I pull back and look at him and once again his thumb brushes away my tears, his hands cradling my face. "This is all my fault," I say.

  "What? No Asha, no. This is not your fault, it was just an accident, a hazard of the job remember?" he says, reminding me of that time with the knife as he pulls me to him, holding me in a tight embrace. "It was just an accident Ash," he whispers. "I’ll be okay, I’m okay beautiful."

  I push back from him. "Luke I’m so sorry I did this to you, I am so sorry." I pull myself from his arms and as I force myself to step backwards from the bed, my heart feels like it’s being ripped from my chest. "You are better off without me, you are safer without me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry," I cry as the tears just keep falling and I tear myself away from him.

  I turn and run from the room, hearing Luke call out my name. I hear something crash and I hear Luke swear, but I keep running. I am destroyed. I don’t want to lose him, but I don’t want him to die either. I need to protect him. I need to leave him.

  I run.

  I run forever.

  I run until I’m back at my apartment. Then I run inside and collapse on the floor, unable to do anything else anymore. My breath escapes in hard painful bursts, broken by sobs and there’s an ache in my chest that feels deep and permanent. My apartment is freezing. I haven’t been here in so long, that the heat hasn’t been turned on for winter. I realise now that I’ve spent so long with Luke, in his house, in his arms, in his bed. That’s why it’s so cold in here, because I haven’t stayed here once since the very first night I spent with him. I haven’t wanted to come back here and I haven’t been able to leave him.

  I feel the ache in my chest deepen, as my heart starts to break apart. I feel it as it shatters into a thousand tiny pieces in my chest. A thousand tiny pieces I know, I will never be able to put back together again.

  Already I miss him.

  But I should’ve known it couldn’t last. I should’ve known that everything would eventually catch up with me. That time was always going to run out and I would have to face it all over again. Losing Luke, my heart breaking, and being forced to go on without him.

  I should’ve known it could never last.

  ∞

  Part of the reason Sam’s death destroyed me so much, is I never had a chance to say goodbye to him. He was the person I was closest to, he was my whole life, the only person I had left, the only person who knew everything about me, and I never got the chance to say goodbye to him.

  I never got to say I love you one last time, never got to kiss him goodbye knowing it would be the last kiss we ever shared. I never got to say sorry for all of the things I’d done to him, for all of the pain I’d caused. Never got to thank him for everything he’d given me.

  Now though, I realise that saying goodbye, having the chance to say goodbye to the one you love, is worse. Because knowing they’re still out there and you’ve made the choice to walk away from them. Knowing that if you wanted to, you could actually turn around, go back and be with them. That makes goodbye so much worse.

  Death by comparison, is so final, so definitive. The End. There’s never any going back.

  When I lost Sam it was in an instant. One day I had him and the next day, I didn’t. I didn’t know it was going to happen then and despite everything I knew, I was never really prepared for it.

  He’d always said to me, "But I’m still here babe."

  I don’t know if deep down, those words were somehow finding their way inside of me, if maybe I was starting to believe them. But when it finally happened, when Sam died, then it was just…over. That was a part of my life that I’d destroyed. That was a part of my life that was now finished. It literally killed me when it happened, but it still just happened. I couldn’t change it and I couldn’t undo it. There was no going back.

  This time though, I said goodbye. I actually had the chance to say goodbye, knowing I was walking away from everything I wanted to keep, and all I could hear in return was Luke calling out my name, begging me to come back. And when I actually had the chance to say my goodbye, all I could feel was my heart breaking at what I was giving up, at what I couldn’t have. This time when I said goodbye, all I could think was, he is still alive, but you are walking away from him.

  Saying goodbye is so much worse.

  ∞

  I’m lying on the floor in my cold apartment. My whole body feels frozen now and I can’t move because I just don’t care anymore.

  Someone’s knocking at the door. It’s late, after eleven. It has to be him, Luke.

  My broken heart is pounding, telling me to open the door. My head is screaming at me to protect him, to stay away from him. I want to listen to both. He’s still knocking, louder now. He knows I’m in here.

  "Ash!" I hear him say. "Please Ash, please let me in."

  I want to.

  "Asha, please," his voice is begging, pleading, breaking as it reaches out to me.

  I lie on the floor, silent on the other side of the door, desperately wanting to open it but unable to.

  Luke keeps pounding. "Ash!" he says firmly. "I’m not leaving here, I’m not leaving until you talk to me, tell me what’s going on here."

  He’s very stubborn when he wants to be. He fights for what he wants.

  I wish I had the courage to do that.

  There’s only silence now, the knocking has stopped and I wonder if he’s given up. I don’t want him to give up.

  I don’t want to give him up.

  I’m trying to work up the courage to open the door, trying to convince myself that it’s okay to open it, that he will be there. That I can just open the door and pull Luke inside. That it’s okay for me to do that, it’s okay for me to want him.

  I want to move, but I can’t.

  Minutes pass by.

  I try and listen for his breathing but the only sounds I hear are my own hard, painful breaths as they force themselves from my lungs. My chest still aches.

  The silence seems endless and it’s torturing me as I imagine him gone now. Luke gone, no longer caring and no longer fighting. Has he walked away now, has he said his goodbye?

  The air feels impossibly still as I hold my breath, willing myself to hear him. Willing him to say something more; to ask me to open the door again, just one more time. Please Luke, please don’t give up on me.

  His pleading voice finally breaks the silence, "Asha, please. Please talk to me."

  And this time it cracks something inside of me. He hasn’t given up, and now I give in.

  I uncurl my body, crawl to the door, stand and unlock it. He’s there on the other side and he looks wrecked, completely wrecked. I say nothing as he pulls me to him. Say nothing as he wraps his arms tightly around me. He pushes me back inside, never letting go of me as he kicks the door shut with his foot. He walks me to the couch, sits us down and pulls me into his lap. I’m so weak, I let him do all of it. Let him wrap me completely in his arms. Let him stroke my hair back from my face
, brush the tears from my cheeks. Let him kiss me everywhere with his lips.

  I can’t let go of him. I can’t let him go.

  "Ash beautiful, please talk to me. Please," he begs. "What’s this all about?"

  I want to tell him.

  I want him to help me.

  I want him to make this all stop.

  I just want him.

  He presses his lips to my ear, whispering, "Please Ash, I promise you can tell me anything, anything at all. Let me help you, please just let me make this all okay." Luke’s voice is pleading with me and I can hear the ache in his words, can feel the ache inside of me.

  I want to tell him everything.

  "Please Asha." His voice is barely a whisper.

  So I do. I take a deep breath and tell him all of it. I tell him about every single death, about all of the death that was my fault. I tell him about my mother, Grace, my Grandad, Adam, Selena, Nate, Angela, my Grandma, Dad, Seth, Lara and Sam.

  All of them. I tell him how I killed all of them. How I thought I’d killed him. How his accidents; the knife, Liam, the burn, have all been because of me. How I’m afraid every time something happens to him, it will be the last time, and I will lose him. He asks me about each of them, what happened and I tell him everything. He asks me about Sam. I tell him.

  ∞

  Sam’s funeral very nearly killed me. It was back in Seattle, I didn’t have a choice in that. Despite five years together, Sam’s parents decided everything. I wanted to be a part of it, I was so alone and I wanted them to let me be a part of it. But it destroyed me, him dying and I couldn’t do anything. I could barely speak, even to them.

  His parents tried to offer some kind of comfort, but they were in shock themselves. His brother was like me, numb and couldn’t speak to anyone. And his sister blamed me. Kate blamed me for what had happened to Sam, and I knew she was right. Knew she was right about me from the very start. That I was never good enough for Sam, that I would never make him happy and that eventually he would leave me and come back to Seattle. She was right, because in the end he did end up back there without me, and it was all because of what I’d done.

  I tried to tell her I agreed with her, that she was right about me and that I was so very sorry for everything. But all she did was slap my face and storm off. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since.

  I didn’t even go to the wake afterwards, couldn’t bear it. I took Sam home, gave him to them and then I just left him. I killed him and took him back there and then abandoned him straight after the funeral. I just left.

  I haven’t heard from his family since. Not once, but then I haven’t contacted them either. A part of me feels bad for that because I know it would piss Sam off. He would have wanted them to try more with me, for me to try more with them. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t look them in the eye, knowing everything I’d done. And I guess they felt the same way.

  If only they knew how much I blamed myself. If only they knew how much his death destroyed me too. If only they knew what kind of life it forced me to live. If only they knew what I’d done, what I’d lost.

  I almost hated them for not being able to see the truth about me.

  ∞

  Luke says nothing as I tell him all of this. Says nothing, just holds me in his arms, stroking my hair like he’s done so many times before. When I finish, I’m exhausted. My tears have dried up now, there’s nothing more inside of me, but Luke has never let go of me. It’s still freezing in my apartment and I reach for a throw rug to pull around us.

  "Ash," he finally says. "You know this is not your fault, you know they were all just accidents right? You didn’t do this to anyone, you aren’t the cause of all this."

  I shake my head. "No," I finally get out. "It’s me, knowing me gets people killed. I get all the people I love killed."

  Luke smooths my hair back from my face and I feel his lips brush lightly over my forehead. "Deep down Asha, I know you can’t believe you’re the reason for all of this. They’re just unfortunate accidents that have happened. You aren’t to blame for this, for any of it," he says softly.

  I look up at him, I want to believe him. I want so badly to believe that none of this is my fault. But I can’t, because it’s been happening for so long now and it’s always connected back to me.

  "This is not something you are doing Asha," he continues, his voice gentle. "This is not something you are choosing to do to people. That’s not how it all works."

  "I want to believe you Luke, I really do. You have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t doing this. That knowing me didn’t mean you ended up dead. But I can’t, I just can’t," I say, frustration building in me. "And I can’t let anything happen to you, I just couldn’t live with myself if it did. I can’t bear the thought of something bad happening to you," I whisper, seeing all of my sadness reflected in his face. "I really wish I could stop all of this from happening, but I can’t and because of that you and I….we…we…it’s…"

  I can’t finish what I know I need to say.

  Luke lets out a deep breath. He kisses me gently and I let him. I really need to let him go, but it’s like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, because he pulls me even tighter against him, his arms wrapping around me as he holds me in his lap.

  "Ash, the reason I don’t talk to my parents anymore…." His voice is very quiet now.

  I close my eyes briefly, wondering what he hasn’t told me, what he could possibly say to make any of this better. He moves his fingers through my hair, gently down the side of my face, before continuing.

  "When I was a kid, I had a really shitty childhood, I mean really shit. My parents were really strict, very controlling, my Dad especially. But he wasn’t a nice guy. He was not a nice guy at all."

  Luke takes a deep breath before he goes on. "I was a smart kid, a genius everybody called me. And my parents, my Dad, he used that against me. He pushed it, pushed me. Forced me to study and study, all the time. Took me from my regular school and sent me somewhere else. With kids who were supposedly just like me. To study all these highly advanced math programs that I had absolutely no interest in studying. I just wanted to go back to my old school, to my old friends. But they wouldn’t let me. They told me I was staying, that this was where I belonged now." He takes another deep breath, kissing the top of my head. "But I never wanted to be there. I never wanted any of it and I never got to have a normal childhood. Never got to do the things I wanted to do. All I ever wanted was learn to play guitar and hang out with my friends, play video games and watch TV, just like a normal kid. I just wanted to be normal."

  He stops again, running his hand over his face and his head.

  "I remember being so excited when I was about sixteen. I won this stupid big math thing that I’d never wanted to be in anyway, and my parents were finally relenting and buying me a guitar. I’d been begging them for ages and they finally caved. I don’t know why, but when they gave it to me, it was a violin and a book of classical music. Said if I was going to insist on playing an instrument, then I was going to learn proper music. I was so pissed off. I mean what sixteen year old kid wants to learn the fucking violin. I couldn’t understand why my parents never listened to me. Never heard what I wanted. I wanted a guitar and they’d promised me that, but then they ignored me and bought me a fucking violin."

  He’s not smiling now and I can see the frustration and anger he still feels.

  "Then by the time I was eighteen, they’d made the decision about where I was going to college and what I was going to study. They never once asked me what I wanted. Not once. They just sent off the application, paid whatever fee was due and that was it, decision made and they’d never asked me a damn thing."

  I watch as Luke closes his eyes. The lingering frustration is all over his face and I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever told anyone else this story.

  "Eventually I lost it. I just couldn’t stand it and completely flipped out, had enough. I didn’t want to do any of it anymore. I didn’t wan
t my parents telling me what I was thinking or what I wanted. Knew they had no right to tell me how I should be living my own life. I was sick of never being allowed to make my own decisions about anything. Sick of never being allowed to just be me, the person I wanted to be. So after a year, I dropped out of school and I left LA. I just left and ran, eventually wound up in Boston. Not long after I learnt to cook. I shaved off my hair and I got the tattoos. And I started playing my music, finally learning the guitar and playing the music I’d always wanted to play. Along the way, I met Jared and eventually, we started thinking about forming the band."

  He stops for a minute. He’s absently stroking my hair and I want to tell him he can keep going, that I’m listening to him. I run my fingers along his arm, but he’s staring across the room, his eyes not focused on anything and I’m not sure he notices.

  "My Dad was so pissed when he found out," he continues quietly. "He tracked me down and came all the way to Boston. Came all the way out here to yell and threaten me. Threatened me with everything; money, my inheritance, disownment. He didn’t realise the only thing I’d ever wanted was choice, freedom, to be able to make my own decisions. But no amount of yelling at him got that message through and he couldn’t change my mind either. In the end, he figured knocking some sense in to me was the only other option."

  "What?" I ask, shocked.

  He looks down at me and smiles sadly. "Yeah, nothing like a punch in the face from your old man to finally get your brain in gear."

  "Oh shit Luke, I’m so sorry," I whisper. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a family out there somewhere. A family who would do something like that. I wonder if they’ve ever even heard Luke play, if they even realise how fantastic he is.

  He looks down at me, gently tucks my hair behind my ear as he says, "It’s okay Ash, it was a long time ago now. And yeah, at first it was rebellion on my part, the whole school and tattoos thing, shaving my hair off even. I mean I wanted to change everything about me; who I was, how I looked. I didn’t want to be his son anymore, didn’t want to be the person he’d created, didn’t want to see that person looking back at me in the mirror every day. I just didn’t want to be me anymore, you know?"