Cursed Ground

In the bedroom he laid her on the bed. She still seemed a little dazed but more responsive as if she was slowly becoming aware of her surroundings again. A few more moments of silence passed between them and then she spoke. “You should’ve killed me.” Then her statement became more of a plea. “Why? Why?”

Beatrice couldn’t understand it. Why was God doing this to her? Why was He letting this happen? When was enough enough? What had she done wrong that committed her to such internal imprisonment and sorrow? Why did He give such beautiful gifts and then take them away?

She could’ve managed if she hadn’t known the difference. If she’d known only sorrow, if her entire life had been as it was before, but now that she’d seen, touched and tasted better—happiness, love, family—she couldn’t survive with anything less.

Why did God damn her to a worse fate than she’d already lived? Why hadn’t He just left her to ignorance? Why? Why couldn’t He just leave her in that place where she wouldn’t be tortured by the hope of something better, by the experience of life that was all things good and beautiful? And now that she’d experienced such euphoria, it was hell having to go back to an existence that no longer possessed it.

It seemed ridiculous now that just the other night she’d tried so hard to live when she could’ve made a simple choice of allowing that night’s torture to save her from today’s. The pain of being ripped apart limb from limb seemed small in comparison, when the torment of the present sentenced her to a worse kind of death… every single day.

Jonathan’s expression softened and he took her in arms. He had seen the quiet torment she was going through. Her face changing from confusion to anger and then finally to sorrow in the course of a moment. Her silent sobs grew louder. She held on to him. He could feel her grip tightening and expected it was her son she presumed she was holding.

“It’s alright,” he said. He glided his hand along her back, trying to soothe her. He wanted to hold her forever, if he could, but he understood that was an irrational reaction. Something he seemed prone to have in her presence. “Everything’s going to be okay.” He didn’t believe that it would be and suspected she probably didn’t either. How could it be okay? She’d lost a part of herself and he knew the devastation of that emotion. In truth, it was likely that nothing would ever be okay again.