Chapter Text
Burning snot. White hands gripping the steering wheel. The dull, heavy taste of blood on my tongue.
I open my eyes slowly, afraid to see what's going on. The car window is shattered, shards covered with blood. The interior is a mess, but isn't my heart too? Because there, on the road in before me, lies my whole world.
My girl, my world, my life. Broken and shattered, like the car window, like my heart. The body that is so familiar and so dear to me now lies on the road, in such a crazily unnatural position that I immediately start to gag. Glassy eyes that are open but can't see. Blood that flows everywhere, staining the asphalt crimson red. A mouth that is slightly open, giving it a surprised look. To her corpse. But no. She can't be dead.
I start to shake wildly, tears flowing. I tear open the car door because I have to get to her. My legs won’t carry me as I sink to my knees in her blood. Holy fuck, there is so much blood. My fingers fumble around her pale neck, searching for a pulse. I can’t find one.
“Please,” I sob. “Please. You can’t take her away from me. Please.”
I'm covered in blood and still holding on to her tightly when the ambulance arrives. I don't remember calling, but it doesn't matter. I've completely lost track of time.
I hear footsteps approaching us. Yes, us. I refuse to admit that I'm sitting here alone on the highway. Someone gently grabs my shoulder. I flinch.
"Let go of her," a woman's voice says kindly, squeezing my shoulder lightly. "You can't help her anymore. Let us handle her."
I shake my head. No. They're taking her away from me. They're taking her away, and they're burying her several meters deep in the ground. They can't do this. They can't. They can't. They can't. They can't. I can't get behind the wheel. I can't accelerate. I can't let go. They can't.
“Carson,” she would say whenever I stayed silent for too long, “Carson, you should never hold on to things that don’t benefit you. Like, I don’t know, an empty teacup?” Then she laughed as I handed her the cup I had been clutching for the past fifteen minutes, and which no longer had a drop of tea left in it.
She was my cup. She didn’t have a single drop of tea left in her.