so long, lonesome

[gabrielle holt]

The sweet melody of innocence danced upon the air as children laughed and called to one another whilst playing in the park. Their voices rang through the air like chimes singing into the gentle breeze. If she closed her eyes, Gabrielle could almost hear the sound of her siblings as they played in the yard back in London. The sound pulled at her deadened memories, threatening to pull them from the dark corners of her mind.

She never should have come here.

Without breaking stride, Gabrielle pulled headphones from her bag and placed them in her ears, eager to tune out the sounds of the park. The song was familiar – one she remembered having liked – and was enough to lead her from the park to the winding path that led away from the town.

The wild grasses waved in the gentle breeze, eagerly lapping up her steps. Purple thistles and yellow snap dragons broke through the tall quivering blades of brown and green like the dawn. Pausing, Gabrielle reached down and plucked a delicate piece of Queen Anne's Lace. She twirled the green stem between her fingers, watching as the snowflake-like flowers swirled together until they were but a blur. The soft hairs upon the stem prickled against her skin, yet she felt nothing.

In the distance she could hear the faint roar of Goðafoss over the sound of her music and quickened her pace. The swaying flora gave way to a steep shelf, a thick mist rising up, rolling across the meadow. The sun was hidden beneath thick gray clouds promising rain. Dropping her bag to the ground, Gabrielle made her along the rocky ledge. Her sneakered foot slipped, sending a shower of pebbles into the churning water below. She waited, hoping to feel fear – feel something – instead, the hollowness in her chest spread further, and she stared with lifeless eyes at the water below.

Closing her eyes, Gabrielle extended her arms to the side, raising them with deliberate slowness above her head. The air was cooler here, the breeze stronger as it tangled in her auburn hair. Pieces clung to her face, damp from the mist. All it would take was five steps and she would be free… Or would she? What if this was it? Her mother had once told her that suicide was murder, those that committed it condemned themselves to hell. What did it matter, though, hell was where she already resided. Gabrielle was certain that whatever lay for her at the bottom of the cliff could not be worse than what she already endured. She wondered if it would hurt when she hit the water—would death be sudden or lengthy. Her right foot staggered forward…

She froze.

She couldn't do it. No matter how many times she arrived here with the same plan, something stopped her. As she lowered her arms, Gabrielle knew what it was. It didn't matter if she jumped, she was already dead.

[luka gray]

Luka's long legs dangled idly off the edge of the cliff as he leaned back and propped his arms behind him. He sighed lengthily and kicked his heels off the dark, craggy rock lazily. The immense waterfalls roared before him, their teal waters cascading into white foam as they crashed into the pool of water below. Mist sprayed upon the defined contours of his face, giving his pale skin a sheen that he quickly wiped away with the palm of his hand. However, his lashes quickly became sodden with water once more and as he blinked trying to clear them, he gave up doing so. He instead closed his eyes, gently laying his lashes against cool skin and titled his head back to the abiding rays of the sun.

There were no memories to linger across his mind – because Luka Gray had none. What he did have were vacant shells, empty voids where gray, hazy moments blurred together into an indiscriminate vast of insignificant memories. Lying upon his cot in a stark, empty room devoured by darkness held no more weight than the times he spent in the large concrete rooms filled with the other children muttering and shouting in their sleep. They all blended into a single memory and Luka never found a reason to pinpoint them exactly. To realize that on December 5th 1998, he had eaten gray porridge, drank dirty water, and slept in a gray bed inside gray walls would do nothing except drive him utterly mad. So as Luka closed his eyes, his thoughts retreated to ones that were not his.

He daydreamed of the family he never met, the family he never had. How they would laugh and smile on weekend outings to the local market. They would buy oranges and press the wedges to their mouths as the juice dribbled down their chins. On summer evenings, they would go out to the Memorial Park and dance to the soft music beneath the clear night sky. The colorful fabrics of dresses were illuminated against candle glow as laughter dusted the air between them all. And because Luka was never quite the dancer, he would sit on one of the benches, a book propped in the curve of his lap as he never read, but smiled and laughed along with them all.

Then Luka opened his eyes and everything stayed as it was. None of it had disappeared as he had opened his eyes to reality.

He knew it was an illusion – something that he had created, but he still basked in the warmth the vision gave him. Like a dream, the people's faces seemed always out of reach, hidden by something or the other. But still, there they were, dancing and laughing underneath the moonlight - his family. His heart swelled as he sighed in rapture over this sight. His vision flickered for a moment as he recognized the warning signs of his body using up his strength to create this illusion. It cost him more to form images that had never existed, even more of people he had never seen. Or perhaps too, had never existed.

Suddenly, as he was lingering in his illusion for the last moments he could spare, a dark figure caught the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw a young girl standing in the middle of the courtyard, seeming as if she was on the periphery of a chasm. Her foot lingered over the air, as if about to take another step and as Luka stared bewildered at this scene he suddenly realized what exactly was happening. She was someone in the world outside his illusion – someone real – and she was precariously standing on the edge of the cliff. Her intentions were clear – she wanted to jump, and she was going to.

His vision vanished immediately, as he scampered to his feet and immediately threw his arm around her waist and tugged her down to the rocky ground. As his elbows and knees collided with the jagged earth, he winced in pain as he already felt warm blood trickle down his clammy skin. He had already been drained from the illusion he had been enjoying just moments before, and now he was breathing quite laboriously as his skin paled underneath the strain. By the pained look on the girl's face, he realized she had been hurt in the fall too. Mustering up his remaining strength, he voiced quietly in a deep accent that he was hoping she would understand, "I hope I didn't hurt you badly."

[gabrielle holt]

Before she could turn, Gabrielle felt a strong arm ensnare her waist, crushing her against their warm body. Near simultaneously, her feet lifted from the ground, the wind whipping her hair against face as she fell backward. The suddenness of the motion disoriented her, and for a brief moment of elation, she was certain that she was tumbling toward the deep churning waters of the falls.

Although she did not know her assailants motives, Gabrielle was grateful. They had accomplished what she was too scared to attempt. She could see Katy's cherub face beaming up at her, the small pudgy hands reaching upward begging to be held…

With as sharp crack, the illusion shattered, pain seeping into the cracks the broken image left behind. Her right shoulder throbbed where it connected with the ground first, following by a stabbing sensation along her right temple from where her head had collided with the hard earth. Groaning, she brought her hand instinctively to her forehead. A warm, thick stickiness lung to her hair, plastering it beneath her fingertips as it rolled languidly down her cheeks. Blood, she thought dully, she was bleeding.

Dropping her hand, Gabrielle closed her eyes, focusing in the pain that tore through her instead.

Vibrant colors swirled before her closed lids in wild circles, growing and shrinking with each pulse of her heart—each sharp throb from her cuts. Still, she focused on the pain, craved it even. It had been so long since she'd felt anything that any sensation was that of luxury. She knew that the feeling would pass; replaced with the dull void of numbness she'd grown accustomed to. For now, she would remain, alone, luxuriating in her pain. The ability to feel pain was the only thing that made her human once more.

"I hope I didn't hurt you badly." His voice sang to her with the soft tenderness of a lullaby. The concern in his tone wavered in the gentle breeze, caressing her cheeks with its earnest sincerity. While Gabrielle could hear the emotion in his voice, she no longer felt it, she was dead once more.

Sighing, her eyes fluttered open and she stared back at Luka Gray's anxious expression. Her hand followed his eyes to the cut on her forehead, brushing against the sticky warmth of the blood once more. "I'm fine," she mumbled, slowly pushing herself up into a seated position. "It looks worse than it is."

Looking down, she stared at her hand. The fingers were streaked with crimson, stark against her pallid skin. Thick lines twisted along fingers, lining the creases of her hands until they were covered. Stained dark and dripping, pooling atop her knees. Yet, despite reason, the blood continued to pour down her hands until they were covered with gore. Only then was she able to look away—onto the curled form of her mother, still embracing her brother.

The earth tilted beneath her, tipping precariously toward the sky. Reaching out for them, Gabrielle knew it was too late. Their image broke, the memory turning to static as the world around her faded back into the cool shadowed hues once more.

A sigh escaped her parted lips as she stared with unseeing eyes forward - she was gone once more.

[luka gray]

Luka watched with curiosity as the dark featured girl stared at her hands and looked away with a sigh of futility. She had given into something – lost a struggle he had not seen. He reached up and brushed back her hair to look at her bleeding head. She stared bluntly back at him, her gaze distant and fogged. He wiped away some of the blood from her forehead, his pale fingertips now turned a ruby shade of red. ”Yes, yes. You are right. Not very bad. But still, let me help,” He looked overhead at the azure sky and nodded. ”Come with me. It will not rain, we can clean you up at the water.” Not waiting for an answer, he gently grasped her hand and pulled her up, his other hand holding her beneath her slender arm. ”I must help, you know. I knocked you down.”

Luka had seen sadness in his life. He had seen pain, and uncontrollable anguish. Watching the dark haired girl slowly lift herself off the rocks, he knew. The slowness in her step, the loss of light in her gaze – sorrow had captured her frail frame and broken it. Immediately, the wails of the orphans pierced his conscious in resounding clarity. Their tiny chests cracking beneath their pain and consuming loneliness. He had always wanted to help them – bring them to the world he found himself in, a place without ache or longing. But the children were frightened of him – the boy the workers told them to fear and outcast. Yet, there had been Aleksandr.

He was a timid boy, two years younger than Luka. He had been found wandering the streets of St. Petersburg – though Luka doubted the orphanage was better for him. A hoarse cough he had been brought in with had worsened over the months. Without any money to provide medicine, the workers left him alone, figuring one less mouth to feed. In the night Luka would hear Aleksandr’s cough that grated his lungs, and the soft cries that pillowed against the air. One night, devoid of the stares and whispers of the other orphans, he finally approached Aleksandr’s bedside. Aleksandr had slowly looked up, his wet eyes like pearls in the light of the moon. ”It doesn’t have to hurt,” Luka said in a soft voice. ”Would you like me to show you?” Hesitant, Aleksandr let one final tear slip down his cheek before he gripped his chest in a strong cough that devoured his strength. After his fit had subsided, he looked up at Luka and mouthed ”Please,” as his coughing had left him breathless. Luka had given him peace, a warm summer night on Lake Ladoga. Luka fell asleep by his bedside, his hand tenderly wrapped around the boy’s frail wrist. In the morning, Aleksandr did not wake. It was after this that Luka was put into seclusion. The orphanage workers had no evidence, but it was cause enough to remove Luka from the rest of the children. It was months before he touched another human being.

The girl’s slender hand intertwined between his fingers sent a warmth coiling down his figure that radiated out from his skin. He had to be careful not to slip into an illusion of his – this sort of peaceful bliss was an easy trigger. There was hesitancy in her movement as he attempted to pull her along towards to waterfall’s basin. Turning to face her, he smiled earnestly. ”I won’t be hurting you. I will watch over you. Come. I’m Luka.”

[gabrielle holt]

His fingers trailed warmth across her temple, brushing aside hair as he inspected her wound. Gabrielle watched him inspect her before brushing his crimson stained fingers against the grass. “You are right. Not very bad. But still, let me help.” Before she could find the words to protest his fingers clasped her hand and he gently pulled her to her feet. “I must help, you know. I knocked you down.” His voice a soft whisper against the bitter pull of the past. Though she could feel his gaze on her, earnest and seeking, Gabrielle could not bring herself to meet it. Instead she concentrated on the warmth of his hand, the press of his skin against hers, watching as he effortlessly turned his own palm to twine his fingers though her own.

It had been so long since she had felt connected to another. A therapist had told her that she needed to find a place for her grief – that in doing so she would find joy and laughter once more. This was what her family would have wanted for her, she had been assured. They would have wanted her to live. Gabrielle knew differently. Her father had wanted her dead. He had wanted no trace of their family to remain without him. If she had come home that day like she was supposed to everything would have ended differently. She wouldn’t be alone now, separate and detached from everyone around her. No one understood and she’d given up trying to find the words to make them. The therapist was wrong. Grief was not a part of who Gabrielle was; it was the foundation upon which she stood. It always remained, steadily lapping about her ankles like the tide waiting for her to forget its presence for a moment so it could gain the advantage. A second was all it took for it to rear up like a tsunami, engulfing and destroying all that was in its wake. She had grown to hate the breathless feeling; the way her heart shattered and splintered over and over. If she remained conscious of its presence, the grief could never overtake her like that. She knew it was there, numbing all else, but at least she was in control. “I won’t be hurting you. I will watch over you. Come. I’m Luka.”

- - - - -

“I know exactly what you need, Gabby,” Seth Granger teased, draping his arm around her shoulder as he guided her toward his car. Gabrielle could feel the eyes of her friends, curious and jealous, as they wove effortlessly through the crowd of students eager to leave school after a long day. She couldn’t believe when she’d rounded the corner after Chemistry and found Seth lounging against her locker, making easy small talk while he waited for her. Her stomach felt tight with nerves as she’d made her way toward him, wondering why he was there and praying she’d have the courage to ask him to move. And then he’d smiled at her – all dimples and sparkling blue eyes – and said her name. Everything was forgotten as the boy of her dreams invited her for coffee, or a soda, or anything she wanted he’d practically begged. Even now she couldn’t believe they were walking together, his arm around her, and she never wanted it to end. “And what do I need, Seth?” she teased back, surprised at how easily the flirtation came to her.

His hand slipped from her shoulders, throwing her arms back with a dramatic flourish. “You need a hero!” he sang loudly and slightly off-key. “You’re holding out for a hero ‘til the end of the night. He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast and he’s gotta be larger than life!”

Jogging forward, Gabrielle punched him lightly on the arm, cutting his serenade short. “Yeah, but I guess I’ll just have to settle for you. But if I see this hero you describe, watch out, because I’ll so be gone.”

[/i] A look of mock anguish crossed his features, and Seth gripped his shirt theatrically above his heart. “Ouch! Why you gotta be like that? You know, Gabby, I’d be that guy if you wanted me to. I’d look out for you.”

- - - - -

She had believed his words; believed in the security of his embrace. In the end though, Seth hadn’t been able to protect her. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to bring her back to the safety of that afternoon. She couldn’t look at him without the realization that had they not been together she would still be with her family, wherever they might be now. “You can’t,” she whispered, staring ahead as they approached the waterfall’s basin.

The boy beside her had been right about one thing: He couldn’t hurt her because there was nothing left to begin with.
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[luka gray]

"You can't." The words were nearly lost amongst the din of the falling water, but he had heard her. There was a finality in the way she said it, something he was well-versed in. As a child, all he wanted was to play with the other children, even just to feel the sun warm his face. But his answer was always, “Вы не можете”. You can’t. And he was locked away.

It was this time that he truly began to flourish and delve into the illusions he created, unbeknownst to what they actually were. He played all sorts of games with children under a warm summer sun. He could only take from what he already knew or imagined, so the grass always smelled freshly cut from a day he was allowed outside when they trimmed the small square of lawn in the back. And the field they played in was the photo of a light green meadow in a beaten encyclopedia he had always loved. But Luka was becoming stronger in these lapses of solitary confinement, the meadow was becoming unlike any other meadow he had seen before, simply pieced together by a collection of images. Yet, with only himself to occupy, he didn’t know how to keep the illusions controlled. ”You can’t,” the orphanage staff had spat at him again. But Luka had heard enough. He was sixteen and had unlimited command of his ability. He was forced into solitary confinement for six months after that episode.

”Well, I would like to.” he said as he cupped cold water into his hand. "This will being cold." he forewarned as he dribbled the water across her cut. She closed her eyes as the water trickled over the curves of her face. Luka touched the raggedy edge of his shirt and ripped off an irregular piece. ”I am sorry, it is a little, uh, dirty. But not so bad." He dabbed the fabric on her cut, which quickly turned from blue to red. She winced and he winced back, ”I am sorry. Almost done."There.”

He felt a twinge of pain and looked down to see his knees leaking blood through his jeans. He looked back up to the girl and caught her light green eyes staring back. He felt a swift uplifting rush and the world around them flaked away like falling leaves. Snow fell soft, blanketing the world in a quiet muffle. He stood in a familiar street – he knew it at once. It was the street in Moscow outside his great aunt’s hotel, the first night after he had been released from the orphanage. He sighed, a smoky breath, just as his nose was beginning to tingle from the cold. Yet, the scene warmed him, the lampposts dripping an ochre light onto the snowy streets.

There was a sharp intake of breath next to him and panic flooded him. He spun around and saw her – standing in the street as snow clung to her hair. She looked utterly confused – but, to Luka’s immense surprise, not afraid.

[gabrielle holt]

Gabrielle didn’t move, but her eyes followed Luka’s every action until icy water was dribbled on her temple and she was forced to close them. She had grown accustomed to people turning away from her; discussing her as though she could not hear them. Immediately after she had lost her family, Gabrielle would sit in a chair with her eyes closed and imagine that she was invisible. If she could just disappear perhaps the anguish that filled her would vanish as well.

In many ways she had. Classmates left her to her own devices and no longer stared at her curiously or whispered behind her back. She wasn’t worth their efforts – not that they had ever really made much of an effort to begin with. Gabrielle didn’t care about them; it hurt too much to feel anything. At the centre she had been sent to clinical terms pertaining to her condition had been tossed around freely: post-traumatic stress; regression; depression, but none of them were true. Gabrielle was cognisant of every moment – waking and asleep – she merely chose to not participate in the life around her. If she gained nothing, then she had nothing to lose as well. She had chosen this gray, bleak life where she could not be haunted by the memories of the family she had lost. The only thing Gabrielle truly desired now was for the rest of the world to let her be.

A sharp pain pulled her from her thoughts, concentrating everything once more on the strange boy who was so insistent to help her. She winced, opening her eyes to peer at him once more. “I am sorry. Almost done. There,” he said, his voice soft as a lullaby. As his own gaze flickered to his injured knee, Gabrielle closed her eyes ones more, shutting out the world. If she could, she would have sank deep inside of the soothing tones of his voice and disappeared there. No one could find her there. No one would look. Perhaps there she could finally feel safe.

A gentle breeze tangled in her hair, curving the long strands across her face. It was cold and damp, and vanished as quickly as it had arrived. In its place icy drops of water kissed her cheek, and Gabrielle opened her eyes to glare at Luka for dribbling more water on her. But it was not the waterfall and its surroundings that met her gaze. She gasped, turning in a slow circle, her shoes crunching in the packed snow of the street. She must be dreaming, Gabrielle rationalized. She had hit her head harder than she thought and was now having a bizarre dream. With any luck she’d sink into a coma and finally vanish without a trace. Pressing her fingers to her temple, she cursed beneath her breath as a raw stinging overpowered her senses. You didn’t feel physical pain in dreams – she was certain of this. When she had finally turned back around, she was met by Luka’s anxious expression. “Am I dead?” she asked softly. “What are you?”