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Azari looked at Nico from the window of their shared apartment. She stared down at the nervous boy and his soon to be girlfriend. He had finally had the courage to ask Venus, his longtime crush, out on a date. It had taken 6 months and a healthy amount of teasing to get him this far so why were there tears. Clear, shimmering, painful tears rolling down her beautiful, heartbroken face. Venus had kissed him solidifying their deserving union. Azari’s heart ached. She felt like the hands of hell were ripping apart her soul. It hurt.
Her crying had intensified as the lump in her throat had gotten bigger. The couch was no longer a haven for her solitude, so she retreaded to the bathroom. She locked the door and slid down the nearest wall, not wanting to even glance at herself in the mirror. She was supposed to be the fun one, the playful one, the carefree one but look at her now. Crying on the bathroom floor of an apartment she shares with a man she had loved her whole worthless existence. Where did she go wrong? Why was this happening to her? In-between her quiet sobs she reached into the right middle cabinet of the bathroom. She reached in the draw, under plies of her nonsensical garbage, hair rollers, combs, mostly empty creams, and gels, sat a razor. Small and sharp and flaked with blood.
She had to do it. She needed to. A burning sensation came from her wrist, itchy and hot and under her flesh and muscle and veins. She had to. Shaky breathed she took the razor and drew a line down her wrist, making a haphazard cross of her old scars. It hurt so much, not as much as 7 years of unrequited love, not as much as the burning she feels to confess her feelings, not as much as having to see Nico live not knowing. From the open wound a red flower sprouted. The front door opened.
“Azzzy” questioned Nico. “Azzy where are you” the sing-songyiness of his voice made the whole situation playful. If only he knew she had just relapsed. The 2 years of progress down the drain, swirling and draining with all the long nights of itching, the support groups, and the feeling of undeserving accomplishment she had felt. Azari sniffled at the memory of sobriety. Nico knocked on the bathroom door softly.
“Hi” His soft voice had her heart flutter and her still open wound pour of a bundle of blood red, delicate, inhumanly beautiful flowers. “Azzy… baby” Gods, Azari had a hated that nickname, that reminder that she was special to him but not special enough and never would be. “Are you okay?” Azari laughed out loud at that question. A laugh that gradually turned into a sob.
“No, I’m not okay.”
“Well, we can talk about it if you want.” The pink flowers had gone past her wrist and were sprouting in her exposed arms and calves. Her pores mutating and expanding to fit the large pistil that sprout those magnificent, ruinous flowers. It was getting worst. How much longer did she have? How much more could she take?
“I don’t want to talk. I won’t matter soon anyway. You have her now; you don’t need me.”
“I- I don’t understand”. A strong cough erupted from the hoarse throat of the crying girl. She coughed and coughed and coughed until she hacked up blood and the flowers. The stupid, useless, lovely little flowers.
“I guess this is the end” she whispered.
“Baby are you alright”
“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” a light Filipino accent slipped as she screamed at him, red tears running down her face. Blood red tears that dropped on to the floor of their shared loft bathroom and sprouted into ethereal and dazzling and delicate and awful fucking flowers. “Please stop calling me that.”
“Ba- Azari… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you hated it that much”
“I don’t… that’s the problem. I love it.” She paused for a moment collecting herself. If she was going to do this, she had to do it soon before they filled up her stomach. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Of course, I love you, you’re my best friend and will always be.”
“THAT’S THE PROBLEM! I LOVE YOU! I love you like the moon loves the sky. Your presence makes me so happy that when your away I feel like life is empty. You’re my sun, no matter what I spin around you, I stay with you. You are my first love. My only love” Azari started to laugh; Beautiful foggy metallic tasting tears turned to those captivatingly grotesque flowers.
“What”
“Nico Michael Washington. I am in love with you. For 7 years I have been in love with you”. Nico tried to speak up, but the girl interrupted him.
“Don’t respond. Just sit at the door with me” The boy had tears streaming down his face, he was confused. He couldn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t want to understand. He didn’t want her to go.
Nico sat back against the door, took his phone out his pocket and called 911. He told them his name, his address, thanked the operator and hung up. He put the top of his head against the door just listening to Azari’s heavy breath. Behind the door sit Azari against the wall. The whole left side of her body was covered in those disgusting and wretched flowers. She was throwing up the thing. Blood and flowers and blood and more flowers. Azari took one more hard, shallow breath and whispered something intelligible before Nico could no longer hear her breathing.
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The sirens of the police blared somewhere in the distance or maybe right next to him. It was all a blurred drowned out by the emptiness of Nico’s mind. The cops broke down the door, he saw a blur of faces, voices, movement. He was dragged away from the bathroom as the police as they forced the door open. Quickly the ambulance rushed in carrying out the flower ridden, unmoving body of his lifelong best friend. Her body hung limp and cold in the ambulance arms. Those horrible, horrible flowers created a trail of death. A single flower fell into Nico’s lap.
Azari Ramos de González was pronounced dead at 16:42, May 12, 2023