Goodbye Yuri End

I wake up in a daze. There is a splitting pain in my head, as if it were cleaved in two with an ax and put back together. An offensive smell fills my nostrils, and a horrible, disgusting feeling covers my entire body. I force my eyes open. Through the classroom windows, the sun beams in, filling most of the room with a warm morning color. I turn my head.

Yuri is dead, her eyes devoid of color, still staring forward at nothing in particular, her mouth hanging slightly ajar, her uniform once stained a deep crimson now a dirty, brown color, seeping onto the floor and the desk above. But why the desk?

I gag at the thought. I remember what I did yesterday. Her dying breaths, wheezy and raspy, fading away in front of me. Picking her up and putting her on the desk. Looking into her eyes, holding her hand as the life faded away. Defiling her. The thought of it sickened me almost as much as the now-crusted layer of blood on my uniform, covering almost the entire thing, my jacket and shirt, my tie, my pants, my shoes, even my hair. Her body still lay still, as peaceful as she looked when I sat her back to the desk she fell against yesterday, but it now seemed entirely devoid of life, its color starting to fade, her eyes becoming empty and soulless.

I had thought, yesterday, with some demented wishful thinking, that she would be awake this morning. That things would carry on as normal, and that we could be happy, push our way into the future like a fairy tale. In some way, that hope still remained, though all rational parts of me knew it was over. I had simply yet to process the loss of Yuri. I leaned over, putting an arm around her now-empty shell, and pressed my lips to hers.

Cold. Clammy. Empty. I pulled away and vomited on the floor. My brain was wrought with all manner of awful thoughts and clear, vivid memories of the day prior. The blood, the fear, the stabbing, the horrible wheezing, my greedy and lustful defilement of her dying body. The blood, the blood, the blood.

I am jolted awake by a hand on my shoulder. I recoil in bed, opening my eyes in shock. Yuri looks into my eyes, concern painted across her face. Her eyes are beautiful, deep purple, piercing into me as much as the day we met. It’s odd, how I learned to love that stare. Her breaths are soft, calm, and quiet, her hand warm on my bare shoulder.

“Is everything alright, Anon?”
“Yes, love. Everything is fine. Just a bad dream.”