Come Back to Me
Filed Under: Short Stories
Date Created:10 Aug 2016
Last Modified:03 Oct 2018
Number of Views: 535
“Hold me close,” she said.
I did. I felt her hot, wet tears on my chest.
“I am sorry babe,” I said in a whisper. I tried hard to swallow the lump in my throat, but it was stuck there, getting bigger and more painful by the second.
“Shhhhhh,” she said, snuggling closer. “It’s not your fault.”
I felt nothing.
I wanted to up and ran away without looking back. And this moment seemed to last forever.
“You are not going to leave me, are you?”
She spoke in an undertone. It sounded like the whisper from the world beyond; from the world of the dying. I hated it. I hated her. I cringed and said nothing, loosening my grip on her.
But it had not always been like that. I had once loved her. More than I loved myself. But in an instant, my love had turned to hate.
“Baby… if you leave, I will die,” she grasped my arms and pulled back a little to stare into my face. Her eyes were full of fear. I had never seen so much fear in a person before. I almost felt sorry.
“I… I can’t help it,” I said.
She threw her arms around me again, holding me even tighter. She placed her mouth on my ear, and began to speak, whispering. It sounded ominous, like an enchantment.
“Remember what you promised: no matter what happens—that you will always be there for me; come rain; come sunshine; come darkness.”
My mind swirled, and I suddenly felt a little dizzy.
Of course, I remembered. And I hated that I did.
I tried to pull away, but she kept clinging to me. She wouldn’t let me go.
But I had to go. And so what had to be done, had to be done.
I flung my head back and then struck forward, striking her forehead with mine. She went limp in my hands. I slowly lay her down.
“I am sorry,” I said, rising to my feet. “I am so sorry; but you and I can’t be together.”
I knew I was being selfish. But sometimes, to save his skin, a man has to be a little selfish.
“You did the right thing,” Adrian, my best friend, said, squeezing my shoulder.
I sniffled, my eyes a little sore.
“I know… but I can’t help feeling a tad guilty.”
“It’s normal,” he said. “I would too. But what had to be done, had to be done.”
“Yeah,” I said, a slight smile coming to my face as I stared down into the glass at the brown beer.
I shut my eyes and let go of all my anxieties and let myself be immersed in the music, which imbued me, drowning all my feelings of guilt.
I had tried to be a good man; but I had failed. Rather, life had failed me. It had pushed me into this corner. It was not my fault.
I had really tried.
I had met Lydia. And wifed her.
But life had taken away our child on the day that he was born. It had also taken away her womb. She was never ever going to have children again.
I had to have a son—a heir; to carry on my name and legacy after I was gone. Lydia was not going to give me that, no. And so I left her.
And now, tonight, I was going to get that which Lydia could not give me.
I pulled the girl closer and thrust harder. She squealed, much to my delight, calling my name.
“You like that?” I whispered into her ear.
She giggled and then said. “Of course I do, Bimbo.”
I froze. That was not supposed to happen.
Only one person on the entire planet ever called me Bimbo.
I pushed her off and shot to my feet. She slowly turned to look at me.
“What is the matter Bimbo? Don’t like it?”
Her face had turned white. She was no longer the beautiful girl I had picked up at the bar. Her eyes had sunk in and all that could be seen in the dim yellow light was the blackness of her sockets.
She had turned into Lydia, my ex-wife whom I had divorced because she could not give me a child.
“No,” I said in a tiny whisper. “You are not supposed to here.”
Suddenly form returned to her face; and I could see her eyes now. They were scarlet with tears.
“I love you, Bimbo. I am not going to leave you. Come back to me Bimbo.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I can’t come back.”
“But you promised…”
“Things have changed. You are no longer… the same.”
“Because I lost my womb?” She appeared horrified.
Her tears began to flow fast and hard. And, frighteningly, with each tear drop, the room began to fill up.
“Stop crying,” I pleaded. “You are going to drown us.”
But she only cried harder; and before I knew it the water was neck deep. I struggled to swim; but I had never learned how to. I felt myself sinking; sinking hard and fast like a stone.
No, something was pulling me down—two pale hands, their emaciated, long fingers wrapped around my feet.
I couldn’t fight them. They were too strong. So I just let them take me.
“Do you know how many tears I cried when you left me?” I heard her voice say in my head.
I shook my head. It was a reflex action really. I couldn’t see a thing. It was hazy all around.
“Enough to drown you in,” the voice said again.
And in that moment, I took an involuntary deep breath and the salty water gushed into my lungs. I tried to scream but that only made matters worse. The pain was searing. I spasmed violently. The hands continued pulling me down; down, down, down into a bottomless underworld.
I opened my eyes, screaming horribly, soaked in sweat.
I was lying on my bed, totally naked; uncovered.
“Fuck, what an awful dream,” I said, hyperventilating.
I slowly turned to the girl sleeping next to me. I tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. She felt awfully cold. She, like me, was not dressed. We must have passed out after reaching our climax.
She was too cold. I Hoped she wasn’t dead.
The words died in my mouth. She turned to look at me. I almost screamed.
“Hi Bimbo,” she said, smiling broadly, her eyes scarlet.
I was obviously still dreaming. The nightmare was not yet over. My heart began to pound heavily, exuding huge amounts of pain with each beat.
She smiled. She had a remote in her hand. She pointed it at the television mounted on the wall.
“Bimbo, look,” she said.
I obliged, too petrified to do anything contrary.
I saw myself on the television screen, lying in a bed; a tube running out of my mouth. Next to me, by the bed side, was Lydia. I was watching, but it felt as if I was right there, in the room, observing. It was an odd sensation.
There was a doctor standing over me, interrogating Lydia.
“Are you sure you did not hit his head with something? He really took a devastating blow.”
“No,” Lydia said. “I love him. I wouldn’t hit him. It is just like I told you. He hit me with his head; and after that he passed out. I don’t understand.”
“Okay, but you are perfectly fine. You appear as if you did not take any blow at all.”
“I am also surprised. If anything I am the one who was supposed to pass out.”
“I guess,” the doctor shrugged.
“Is he going to wake up?”
“I do not know. That’s pretty much up to him.” He walked to her and placed a caring hand on her shoulder. “Maybe it is better go home and freshen up. You have been here for two days straight.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I will stay here till he wakes up. Till he comes back to me.”
“Suit yourself,” the doctor said, leaving the scene.
“Bimbo,” she leaned in, placing her mouth to my ear.
The Lydia next to me did the exact same thing and I felt her lips on my ear. It was eerie.
“Bimbo, come back to me. I don’t wanna lose you, Bimbo. I have lost so much. I can’t lose you too.”
I suddenly realized how selfish I had been. A lump formed in my throat; and my tears began to flow. The room began to fill up quickly.
I did not try to do anything. Maybe I deserved the pain just a little longer. And above the din of my tears pouring out of my eyes like a waterfall, I heard her voice, quite clearly, quite loudly:
“Come back to me, Bimbo.”
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