He walks into the dark room. It’s hard to see anything other than his shadow as it spans the floor. He shuts the door, careful not to let the light creep in. She pays no attention to him. But standing by the window starring at the rain, she grabs a quick glance at him from the corner of her eye.
Although she had been expecting him, she had secretly hoped he wouldn’t come. But at the end of the day, he was her only friend. And as a good friend, he not only listens to her, but offers her advice, and believes in her when she doesn’t want to believe in herself.
“Have you come to tell me ‘I told you so’?”
He puts his hands in his pockets and slowly takes a few steps towards her. He allows his head to drop and shake in disappointment, then lifts it up, tilts to the side and gives out a soft sigh. “I‘m just here to help.”
She tries hard to hold back the tears, but as hard as that was to do, it was harder to accept the fact that he did indeed tell her so. As much as she hated to admit it, he was always right. No matter how hard she tried to prove him wrong, she always ended up alone, empty…and wrong.
“We met in the rain, much like this one; remember?”
“Vaguely,” she lied. Truth was she remembered that evening as if it were yesterday. It was the first night that she felt helpless. The first time she had cut herself. Her first encounter with him. She was hurt, on the ledge of desperation, and in need of a shoulder to lean on. And there he was. Without uttering a single word, he sat beside her on the bench. As he gazed deep into her eyes, all the pain and loneliness she had felt, she saw in his eyes. And it was on the night at the park, that she shared a darkness in her with someone who knew how she felt - not just pretended like he knew, but truly felt her desperation.
She let him into her heart.
“No one will ever understand you like I do.”
She didn’t reply, but as her eyes twitched and she let a cigarette, she remembered that same night on the bench. They had talked about life, of love, boredom, lessons, dreams, pain and relief. Although he seemed dark and cynical, he was certainly knowledgeable. He always had the answers to everything.
“I‘m just so tired!” she admits as she quickly wipes a tear from her eyes.
He takes a few steps closer to her and places his hand on her shoulder as he softly whispers into her ears, “I know.” Placing both hands on each of her shoulders, he looks at her, “Why is it so hard for you to do the right thing?”
“Because it’s hard!” She exclaims.
“You know the right thing to do is always the hardest thing. You just have to have faith. Why do you keep putting yourself in the same situation? Take control of your life. Take a stand. Do what needs to be done.”
She’s still silent, starring at the rain through the window. A tear runs down her cheek.
He sits down at a table. “Let me help you.”
She turns around and heads towards the table where he sits. She grabs a chair on which the moonlight shines down upon, and sits in front of him. “Here…consider it a gift,” he says.
She lights another cigarette and takes a deep puff. As he gets up and walks towards the window, she stares at the table and what lies on it. He’s always been there for her, a good friend. Why stop trusting him now?
“You always believe in me when no one else does.”
She looks at him as he says, “that‘s what friends are for.” And slowly she places her cigarette on the ashtray.
A loud bang goes off and her body collapses on the table as blood from her head drips all over the table.
He says nothing. Does nothing. Lights a cigarette and expresses a cheeky smile as he passes her body and heads towards the door. “You know why they call me the Devil?” he asks rhetorically. “Because if you got things the wrong way around, Life Isn‘t Very Exciting Dear.”
He leaves…
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