??/??/9?

Only my weapon understands me, but you?  At least you make an effort.  I can see it in your eyes.  In the crease of your brow.  In the purse of your lips.  In the way your pupils dart around, scanning my face for even the faintest hint of jest.  The gravity of the situation outside these walls is lost on you.  I don’t blame you.  If I hadn’t seen things unfold before my very eyes, I can’t say that I’d believe it either.  I envy your innocence, but pity that you’re not completely naïve to the way things have become.  You cried all the time when this first started.  You’d cower and keep to yourself… and that hurt more than anything else I’d witnessed.  I noticed you don’t do that as much anymore these days.  More quiet reflection than outright denial…  Christ, I hope you aren’t growing as numb as me.

I hate you seeing us like this.  There is good in humanity.  Was?  Hell if I know anymore.  I don’t know if there’s hope left.  This plague has spread beyond the confines of the city limits.  Hostiles aren’t restricted to the truck stops or trailer parks or outskirts of Paradise.  I see them when I turn on the TV, hear them when I try to listen to the radio.  There’s no place left to get the truth.  All forms of communication have been compromised.  They even call us on the phone and try to slip mail in our door… Trying to expose us to that virus, but they haven’t infected us yet.  Maybe we’re immune… Maybe we’ve just been lucky?  Either way, it’s just me and you now.  Without you, I know I’d go insane.  I thank God every day for sending you to guide me through this.  If I were Him, I’d want you back… Sometimes, when I look at you, I can’t help feeling like He does.  Especially in quiet moments like this.  Sometimes that voice agrees with Him.  I can hear him urging me to do what’s right…  Reminding me that you’re too good for this world.  Fuck, as if I don’t know you are.  I just… can’t.   I can’t do it.  I can’t send you home yet.

It’s selfish keeping you on this planet… this wasteland of pestilence and pain.  I don’t deserve you, and you don’t deserve this.  The merciful thing would be to listen and let you go, to free you from this suffering.  I’ve thought about heeding the call and sending you back to Paradise— the real one above, not this mockery in Arizona.  That goddamn voice is so compelling.  It makes my head hurt knowing that he’s right but not being able to make myself obey.  I’ve gotten so close.  I’ve gone as far as to raise my rifle while you sleep.  Thank God, you actually sleep around me now.  I remember how skittish you were, like I was the one that was infected.  Now you finally let me watch over you, just like you’ve been watching over me.  Your vermilion halo fans around your head when you do, a subtle reminder of your divinity.  You’re so damn beautiful.  I hate it, but I can never pull the trigger.  I need you here with me.  I need the reminder that good and purity and light still exists.  I need you.

My gun starts to feel as heavy as my heart.  I set it down and drop to my knees.  My forehead falls onto my arms beside you on the mattress.  I hate how much I need you.  I hate everything.  Everything but you…  And that’s how I know I haven’t succumbed like everyone else.  The silver cross dangles from my neck as I try so hard to remember to breathe… its metal cool as it taps against my bare chest.  It almost makes me laugh.  If not for you, I’d probably have snatched it off and stopped believing entirely.  It’s hell living like this.  It’s so draining to pretend to be strong.  I don’t feel strong enough.  I wonder if you can tell.

When I raise my eyes to look at you again, you’re blurred by my own foolish sentiments welling up.  I brush away a strand of hair that managed to catch your lip in your sleep and soon I’m running my fingers through the rest.  The only trace of beauty left in this world full of hate.  The thought of facing this without you is more frightening than anything happening outside this house.  It’s more frightening than damnation.  Moments like these, I wonder if we should just go together.  Send you to heaven first then turn it on myself before I have a chance to regret anything.  But God, when I imagine you ending up like them… reduced to a puddle of blood and haphazard chunks of flesh, my throat tenses and mouth waters in that unpleasant yet too familiar way.  I’m on my feet before I realize it; screwing my eyes shut and shaking my head like it will rid my mind of the image.  My gun is in my hands again, but not pointed at you.  Not even at myself either… Though I do wonder if a bullet would shut him the fuck up and let me think.  No, it’s tight in my grip as I turn to peer out the blinds again, like they can smell my fears and doubts and weakness and want to prey upon it.  Because that’s just what they want, isn’t it?  To stop me.  To silence him.  To steal my angel and poison you, drag you so far into this hell that you’ll never reach heaven again.  If I give up, what becomes of humanity?  Who is left to end this madness?  I know I must keep breathing, keep planning, keep fighting… 

I’m just not brave enough to do it alone.

Not yet.

May you both forgive me.