Broken Screams

I promised you would come home. I can see your face. “Mex, it’s just a train ride. Jesus, what’s the worst that could happen?” You frowned and rubbed your hands around and around. “I dunno Dev. You sure?” “Yes! Stop being such a stick in the mud.” I stepped a little closer and pulled your hands to my chest, hands that were always playing some kind of instrument, so graceful. “It’ll be fun. We can tour the country. C’mon.” You were terrified of trains, but you went anyway. “Kay.”

Twisting metal, screech of steel, the world jolts and bumps, turns over. Ends. One scream pierces the air. “Devvvviiiii!”

You shook as we stepped on the plane. I grabbed your hand. “Mex. Calm down. We’ll be fine.” You grinned up at me. “I have to do the taxes. You promise we’ll be home soon?” “I promise.” Laughing, a sound like, like glitter in the air, you skipped on the train. “Kay.”

Low groans lurk through the room, fogged with the smell of iron and gas. I crawl forwards over broken bodies and metal. “Mex! Where are you?” You’re on the floor.  One blue green eye is hanging from your head, the other swollen shut. You lie in a pool of blood and bones. Both legs are bent towards your stomach. That thick black hair is caught in a cracked window. Your spine is showing, snapped in half, protruding from your back like some demented sculpture. Every bit of that cream skin is cut, some so deep I see tendons and marrow. A shard of glass 8 inches long is dug into your chest, exposing stomach and ribs. Somehow you’re still alive. “De-Devi. Are you okay?” “Mex!” You shudder and put your remaining hand towards me. “Y-you okay?” “Fine. Mex, hang on. You’ll be okay.” We both know I’m lying. I inch towards you when the train shivers and squeals. An iron bar cracks from the ceiling and falls on you. My last glimpse of you is your head, cut off at the neck by that pole. Blood, so much blood, it spurts, covers me, I am drowning in your blood. A shadow lands on me and I feel something slice my back. I welcome it, beg for death. I fall to your side and grab your hand before blackness takes me.

I woke up howling for you. I was in the hospital. “Mex. Where is Mex!?” A doctor hurried over. “Mr. Thoms, you must rest. Please. You’re very hurt.” It was only then that I noticed the pain arching through my spine. “Where is Mex?” She hesitated. “Mr. Thoms, I, I really-” “WHERE?” She inhaled. “Mr. Thoms, your fiancée passed away in the accident. I’m sorry, but she was already deceased when we arrived at the scene.” Darkness over took my world, filled me up. I began to thrash. “Mr. Thoms! Stop! You’ll undo the stitches!” I ignored her. She spoke into a phone and 3 men entered the room. They held me down, strapped me to the bed. I couldn’t move.  “Fuck! Let me go!” The ward came alive with beeping and voices. “He has to be sedated! He’ll over strain himself! Get the anesthesia!” Something sharp pierced my skin and I collapsed.

I’m walking through a dark place, just walking. Your voice surrounds me. “Devi. You came.” I reach out a hand, laughing. “Of course.” Your face is in front of me, whole again. “I was worried you would forget me. “Like I could forget you.” You cuddle close to my side and I smile. The smell of oranges and grape hovers on your skin. “You’ll always love me, right?” I nod. “Good.” You pull from my arms. The shriek I remember from that day batters my ears. You’re gone.

I woke in the hospital once more. The same doctor from before was looking at me. I took the time to look at her nametag. ‘Dr. Fersinoto’ “Will you be calm now?” I nodded. “I’m sorry our first meeting had to end so badly.” “Yeah.” “Mr. Thoms, you are lucky to be alive. The train crash that led to your fiancée’s demise nearly killed you. The bar that scarred your back nearly severed your spinal cord.”

The pole that cut off your head. I wish it had killed me.

“Mr. Thoms. Are you looking at me?” I was jolted back to her. “Yeah.” “I’m so sorrowful that you had to witness her death, but you must put this behind you. Mr. Thoms, you are 24 years old. We can get past this.” I hated the way she said we. You know I’ve never liked being grouped in. “Sure.” She frowned slightly. “As soon as you’re healed you’ll be entered in a therapy group.” I clenched my teeth and grinned at her. With you beside me I could do anything, even have some shrink try to get inside my fucking head. “Sure.” I did my best to sound like I thought it was all just a fantastic idea.  “Alright. Get some rest.”

As soon as she leaves the room you step in. “Mex.” “Miss me love?” You curl up next to me and I put my fingers over the spot where your hand was been cut off. “Yes.” “We’ll make it through this together.” You turn your head into my shoulder. “I love you so much. I’ll never leave you.” I smile and wrap my hand tighter into your waist. Somehow you’re solid. So warm.

I was always the cold one, always cuddling into you. The winter my dad kicked me out for being a ‘faggot’, even though I was straight, you found me. You didn’t say anything, just cuddled into the boy you know only vaguely from school. “Hello.” Your voice, like cake, smooth and rich. “H-hey.” It was like being near a furnace. I fell asleep on your shoulder, safe. You stayed awake the whole night, didn’t you? Your eyes were dark underneath the next morning. When I told my story you took me in, tried to. But your parents didn’t want ‘that bad kid’ living in their house. They made me leave. I lived on the streets until I turned 17, until my dad died and my mom let me back in. Your parents still wouldn’t let me see you, but I snuck into your room every day, no matter what had happened. I could cry into your shoulder, or you could into mine. We dreamed of escape, of traveling to far off places. We were going to tour Europe for our honeymoon. When we turned 18 you moved in with me and never saw your dad again. I went to college with you, just the state university. Nothing fancy, but I was starting as a technician and you were going to be a secretary. We never wanted much. Only each other.