Separation

The pain of relationship breakdown. Kryssa reacted her way, the pain is familiar to most

Beginning, Middle and End Contest

BEGINNING "The pain was huge, intense and overwhelming."



MIDDLE "There was nothing to see but a little old lady, crawling down the street bent over her walker."



END "The silence buzzed and rang in the aftermath."

Word count: between 500 and 1500 (Actual: 754 words)



The pain was huge, intense and overwhelming. Unlike anything she had ever experienced in her entire life. Her shoulders shook as she wondered whether she would be able to move at all. Tears dribbled down her cheeks and she struggled to make some meaning, any meaning of the gaping hole that was now a part of her. Wounded and wondering, Kryssa grasped the edge of the chair and hauled her aching body from the floor and ended up slumped against the cool leather. They had worked hard to save the money for these chairs. Together, they had trawled the shops to furnish the apartment, turning down first one set of chairs, then another and another. It seemed that they were destined to never agree on something as fundamental as something to sit on. At the end of her tether, Kryssa insisted they stop for coffee, to regather their thoughts and regenerate some energy. And it was on the way to the cafe, that they both came to a standstill before this suite – dark luscious cobalt blue, studded burnished buttons and sturdy mahogany woodwork. It would fit beautifully in their aged apartment; it would be the centrepiece around which they would build the rest of their decor. Laughing that they had finally reached an agreement, they made the down payment and headed for coffee, the atmosphere now light and free, the decision made.



These memories passed before her eyes as she lay in the chair, gasping for breath, wondering where this would end. She wiped her eyes, straining to see through the window, looking for any signs of a reprieve, anything that would indicate the nightmare would come to an end. But there was nothing. There was nothing to see but a little old lady, crawling down the street bent over her walker. Kryssa wondered whether that old lady had once seen pain as she was suffering. Or perhaps it was just her. There was no purpose – there was nobody else, the woman was struggling down the street to what? Would that be Kryssa’s end – to be bent and twisted and struggling toward a life filled with pain? Once more she was overwhelmed with memories. They had often walked down this street, planning their future, laughing over jokes known only to them both. They were a unit, each separate yet so much a part of each other and now that street would always be empty for her. She wouldn’t be able to sit in this chair, looking through that window, without knowing the agony of this moment. She didn’t want to extend beyond this instant – nothing else would ever matter again.



Shaking, Kryssa tried to stand. Her knees shook and her body trembled with the effort as she tried to make her way through the room. Away from the chairs, away from the window and away from the emptiness. She had fought hard, tried to make him see. They needed to be together, they couldn’t function apart. They were a part of each other and he could not leave, he wouldn’t survive and neither would she. For hours she had laboured, for hours she had pleaded, cajoled and cried and it all meant nothing. In the end, he’d gone. And she was left with the pain.



She didn’t want this, she hadn’t asked for any of this. She hadn’t expected it, nor had she planned for it. She had planned for a future, with fun, laughter and games, like it had always been. Then he wanted to go. She’d known it was wrong. She’d known it would hurt. And she’d known she wouldn’t let it happen. They’d struggled and fought and eventually he was gone. Kryssa struggled to move through the house, each step sending streams of pain shooting through every part of her body, but she moved onward, determined to go forward. Close to the door at front of the apartment, she stumbled, her arms flailing out from her side, vainly trying to halt the fall. Too late. Her energy was spent. Kryssa lie on the floor, struggling for breath, her eyes flickering open, seeing the results of all her pain. Felix lay at the door, bleeding, perhaps dying, perhaps dead, but still nonetheless. Kryssa sighed waiting her time to be with him, because that was where she belonged – always with him. She closed her eyes, the silence buzzed and rang in the aftermath of the morning’s events. Somebody would find them, eventually. But for now, it was just the two of them. Again.