Elena's P.O.V.
I ran. I ran as fast as I could to Francis.
Every breath and every second was a fight for survival. It was becoming too much. Just too much.
Even a straw becomes heavy when you carry it far enough.
My limbs burned, the pain grew, and I could feel how old wounds re-opened. Yet, the inward agony was the most unbearable injury. Bruises and broken bones heal, might even leave a footprint. But in the end, it's the scars that you don't see that bleed the worst.
I hurtled into the theater, almost crashing into the doors when I entered the massive hall. The loud noise boomed everywhere, declaring my arrival in the thick air.
It was becoming more and more difficult to tame the tears. They barely stayed where they did, but I refused to let them fall. Not now. I've come so far, and I can't fail. Just a little bit more.
The song sheet that I had been holding through the rough run was still in my fist, held so tight that my nails dug into my skin. Music has been a cure for a sorrowing mind, however, you can't expect fine music from a broken violin.
But I needed to try. Goddammit, I needed to try.
"Elena?" Francis rose from the piano, looking at me with worried eyes. "Oh, my child," he ran to me, holding me in a hug that only made the fight with my emotions more difficult. "God, what has happened? Dear, you do not look well-"
I walked away from his questions and embrace, barely able to stand on my feet next to the majestic instrument. "Please, Francis," my voice was quiet and quivering. "Can we just have. . . a lesson, please? Just one lesson."
His wrinkles were scarred with worry and sorrow. The only communication we exchanged was looking into each other's eyes. He knew what I needed. He knew what I couldn't say.
"Of course, darling," he nodded, quietly walking to the piano. Gently and carefully, he pulled the crumpled paper out of my hands and laid it neatly in front of him.
Francis started playing the slow, heartwrenching notes. He brought the song to life; summoning dead memories.
My eyes were shut closed, isolated from the gray world to hold back the tears that had yet to be shed. I built the wall too high and caught too many drops of grief.
And now I have to pay deeply for the consequences.
Despite my shadowed abilities to focus properly, I could still sense a warmth. A sun that did not let go of the view.
I filled my lungs with a thin breath that trembled on the way down, listening to how the song thrived to its fullest.
And with a dishearted spirit, I sang the damaged verse.
"I can't see the stars anymore living here
Let's go to the hills where the outlines are clear
Bring on the wonder, bring on the song
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long."
For too long have I hid it away
"I fell through the cracks at the end of our street
Let's go to the beach, get the sand through our feet
Bring on the wonder, bring on the song
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long."
For too long have I been in denial.
"Bring on the wonder, we got it all wrong
We pushed you down deep in our souls for too long."
For too long have I held it back.
"I don't have the time for a drink from the cup
Let's rest for while 'til our souls catch us up
Bring on the wonder
We pushed you down deep in our souls so hang on."
For too long have I caged the tears.
"Bring on the wonder, bring on the song. . ."
For too long have you been gone.
". . . I push-"
My voice broke, cut right through the lyrics and melody. It was too much. I couldn't hold the weight anymore - it was too heavy, the sorrow was just too heavy.
I collapsed, falling to the floor as my body could not hold me anymore; could not support me. I loathed myself for failing, absolutely hating myself for not being able to finish her favorite song.
And for the first time in years, I cried.
It's been too long since you have been gone. And I'm sorry, but I can't finish your song - I just can't.
"Elena, my dear," Francis held my trembling body, bringing me into his embrace. I cried into his long tunic, letting ugly tears and hiccups leak out of the crack, sobbing like a big mess. "Shh. . . Shh. . ."
My heart was breathless, and my soul had no access to air anymore. The atmosphere was empty.
Empty of life.
Forlorn and dejected. It was truly over. The world had finally beat me. Punched me so hard that I could not get up.
What was the point of my heart beating when it had no one to beat for? Every moment in life is just a step closer to death.
"I'm here, darling, shh, I'm here," Francis spoke in a soft tone, gently brushing my head and shoulders. The only thing I could do was to grasp his clothing and hold onto it so helplessly and so pathetically.
I hate myself for not finishing what has been started.
Disdain grew wildly, aiming and stabbing me uncontrollably. It hurt everywhere. I thought I knew what pain was or how heavy the weights could be.
Past experiences were nothing compared to this.
A bow too much bent is broken. It's so easy to be destroyed; easier to be hurt than to heal. Even one link that breaks can split the whole chain. A broken hand can work, but a broken heart can't.
One change can destroy so much in life.
"Ella?"
My heart flinched at his voice, and I shut my eyes tightly upon hearing the warm sound.
I was too embarrassed to let him see me like this. Too embarrassed for breaking down like that. Too embarrassed to reveal my true, colorless face.
Pathetic.
"Please, Elena," Ethan continued with a soft and quiet voice. But I couldn't face him.
I didn't want him to see what kind of a wreck I am. How damaged I truly am. I don't want him to see the part of me that I have tried to hide for years. The mask might be thick, but the soul is beyond weak.
Beyond injured.
Ethan's hand faintly touched my back, and in reflex, I lifted my head from Francis' embrace and met his heavy eyes.
There was a moment of silence. A moment of grief and pain. A bleeding scenery.
And then there was nothing.
I looked away from him, trying to hold back the dam of tears. "You need to go," my voice was thick and sore of woe, and I tried to swallow the stone stuck in my throat.
"I'm not going anywhere, Elena," his hand hugged my trembling palm, squeezing it in comfort and consolation.
His warmth felt good, but I knew it was wrong. "Please, Ethan. . . you need to leave," my words were a broken mess of letters. "I don't want to hurt you too."
The hold on our hands became tighter, and I could feel how the warmth radiated from his small gesture. It was as if sunbeams were trying to break through the darkness.
"I'm not going anywhere," Ethan whispered with gentle words, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear before he stroked my chin to dry the screaming tears.
And that's how I stayed for the rest of the day. I was in the arms of Francis but was held by Ethan's hand. Slowly but sure, I cried myself to sleep; taking a break from the empty life and broken world.
It was just the vacation I so desperately needed. A place where I could breathe, where my heart could beat without tearing my insides apart.
I fell asleep in the monk's arms with the feeling of dread following me; a heavy burden reminding me that I would have to face the empty life and the broken world when I wake up.
And at this point, I realized the reality of the titanic war - my fight between life and death.
I can't go on. I have lost.