Redemption

It’s the quiet, the dead quiet that’s the worse. Unless you listen for the clock ticking, you wouldn’t know I exist. I haven’t moved or gone anywhere since it happened. Don’t know if I’ll ever need to again, if anyone will let me. Like that day, I just have to stand and take it.

I’ve been alone, until today. He came to see me, I was surprised. When he approached me, it was like he was seeing a ghost, a memory that made him so miserable it made his unfeeling face twitch in pain. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. I know he never thought much of me, but I always suspected that was an act. He depended on me and he knew it, and every now and then, he gave me a pat and a smile when no one was looking.

But today it was different. Every step towards me he shook. When he touched me, it was where I’d been attacked, where the injuries were. He tentatively put his fingers there, then his palm. I held him up, as his legs seem to give out. He leaned into me, almost the same way as that day. Then he slipped to his knees away from me and emptied his stomach into the ground.

And then the tears, a weeping that must have been held back forever, trying to keep up appearances for everyone else. We had to do that alone, just him and I, because no one else could understand. Everything as we knew it was over, no matter how it turns out from here. Doctors, therapies, repairs can’t bring us back complete, our scars will never truly disappear. Something will always be evident, some vulnerability. They’ll say wasn’t it a shame what happened, always looking for the damage, like they were staring at where the last Czar of Russia’s family sat huddled together, right before they were murdered. There’s something about the gore of a crime that fascinates and intrigues. But for the two of us, we are isolated survivors, of whatever is left of what we can save.

It’s raining now and I’m not equipped for that anymore. Leaning his head on me, he stays and gets wet with me, letting the cold drops attempt to rinse away what can never be clean. Maybe it will wash away the blood stains he’s smearing between his hands. He looks at it, returning to red and unspeakable horror fills him with tremors. His cries are louder than any sirens, that still ring in the air around us.

The dark and cold surround everything now, until we know for certain if the other will survive. We can’t be sure if either one of us are fit, if we’ll ever patrol the streets anymore. He’s quiet now, succumbing to what is numb and what little he can do. Prayer is the only thing that can hold anything together for now.

I’ll be here awhile, and so will he, at this hour, that has to be okay. Dawn will come, the sun will rise and we’ll have to fight it through. My own hopes are to return and show them all we can’t be put down that easy. Neither one of us, or all of us. I can stand tall and wait. For I was the fastest Torino this city has ever seen, and I’ll be ready if my time to shine will ever come again. My fame will precede, they won’t forget about me.