Can I Be Strong?

“Eriacu! Come here! Look!”
“What is it, Mama?”
Evelyn pulled her little son down into her lap. All around them were flowers, the most beautiful Eriacu had ever seen. Red roses, royal and gold hemerocallis, fiery pink bleeding hearts, dusty white and lilac orchids, the tender blue and pale pink of grape hyacinths: wonder and splendor as far as he could see.
“Look here, Eriacu,” Evelyn said gently, reaching out to the underside of a wide leaf.
Under it’s shade a fragile cacoon, shimmering like chrome, hung precariously.
“Mama, it’s moving,” Eriacu whispered when he saw the cacoon twitch.
“Yes it is.”
“Why is it moving, Mama?” Eriacu asked.
“Wait and see,” she replied.
They waited and watched while the cacoon writhed and shuddered. Then it broke apart. Slowly, two large, brown triangles emerged. Then a long body with a button sized head and four black legs.
Eriacu gasped. Evelyn took his hand and held it just in front of the little creature. It climbed onto his fingers and he giggled as it tickled him.
“It’s a butterfly,” she said, watching Eriacu’s eyes widen in delight. She pointed a little further off, at a butterfly that had just taken flight. It was followed by a second. Then a third. Soon there were quite a few of them flitting about the garden.
“It’s so delegate,” Eriacu said, looking at the butterfly on his hand.
“You mean delicate?”
“Yah, delicate,” he replied. “It could break.”
“It won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Butterflies are stronger than you think, Eriacu.”


“It’s too dangerous.”
A devious smile lit Evelyn’s face, as she met his gaze in the mirror. The solemn young man was standing a ways behind her while she sat before her vanity, touching up her makeup. “You worry too much, Vale.”
Vale lowered his eyes. “Forgive me for my candor, my lady. I have a dreadful feeling about all this.”
Evelyn drew a small line of black on the edge of her eyelid. She never wore much, only a touch to amplify the beauty she already possessed. “You have every right to be, Vale,” she said softly. She set the eyeliner pen on the vanity and smoothed her dress. “As long as this outrageous affair continues, we will have to simply push through these dreadful feelings.”
“My lady,” Vale spoke quietly, choosing his next words carefully. “I would suggest we not go out tonight. Perhaps another time, when things are not so tense.”
She smiled gently, looking back at him by turning a little in her seat. “If we waited that long, Vale, we would never leave the museum.”
Vale laughed softly. “I suppose you’re right, my lady.”
“Besides…” She adjusted the folds of her dress. “This alliance is important. If Mr. Ryan’s company stays on good terms with us, we will be able to support the Zone for decades.”
“But attending a theater?” Vale queried. “Isn’t that a little, well, excessive?”
“You and I seem to think so. Nevertheless, it’s best we pander to Mr. Ryan’s frivolities if we are to maintain his generous will.”
“More like maintain his generous wallet.”
She laughed this time, a crystal clear sort of laugh, light and cheerful. “Yes, indeed. Now I must go find Eriacu,” she said, standing. “Before we are late.”



“And this is the slide,” Diablo said, pointing at the rectangular bar of metal along the top of the gun’s barrel. “Pull it back until you hear the click.”
Click.
“Good. Now your bullet is loaded in the chamber. When you’re shooting, you hold the gun in your right hand like this, and pull back on your wrist with your left hand. Good, good. That causes tension and allows a more sturdy support. Then you want to squeeze the trigger. Not slow or fast, just somewhere in the-“
BANG!
CLASH!
SLAM!
Evelyn stood in the open doorway, a look of shock on her face. The empty bullet casing rolled to her feet.
Diablo jerked slightly in his seat and looked up at her, startled from her sudden appearance.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look! I shot it!”
He looked down at Eriacu, sitting in his lap, holding the gun triumphantly.
“Diablo,” Evelyn was trying to keep calm. “I thought we agreed that he wouldn’t hold a gun until he was at least ten.”
“He wasn’t supposed to fire it,” Diablo replied.
“And why on earth would you two be playing with guns in your office?” Evelyn looked at the broken window where Eriacu’s bullet had shattered the glass. She then looked back at her husband, a serious frown crossing her face.
But even angry, she was still beautiful.
Eriacu put the gun on the desk before leaning back against his father’s chest. “Are you mad, Mama?”
She tried to look stern, but her face softened. “No, not mad. Just very disappointed.”
“Sorry, my love,” Diablo apologized, standing to his feet. Eriacu wrapped his arms around his neck as Diablo held him. “You’ll be leaving now?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Can’t be late for Mr. Ryan.” She said the last part in a slightly exasperated voice. Mr. Ryan wasn’t the greatest person on earth to get along with.
“At least go to enjoy the show, love.” Diablo came over and kissed her softly.
“I only wish you were coming,” she said, tugging on his collar.
“I have meetings with Eddard all night,” he replied. “GRAIL activity in the downtown area is apparently rising.”
“I want you to come too, Daddy,” Eriacu said.
Diablo chuckled and set him down. “I know, I know. But Daddy has work to do.”
“Well,” Evelyn sighed, gazing at him lovingly. “I’ll miss you, love.”
“We’ll see each other later. It’s only two hours.”
“See you soon, Daddy?”
Diablo smiled at Eriacu. The youngest son. Only eight years old, and a spitting image of Evelyn.
“See you soon.” He held out his finger. “Pinky promise.”
Eriacu giggled and locked his little finger with Diablo’s. “Promise.”
Evelyn kissed Diablo again. “See you soon.”


Pinky, pinky bow-bell,
Whoever tells a lie
Will sink down to hell
And never rise up again.


“Mama…”

It was raining. How fitting.

“…Mama…”

I always liked the rain. Mother would dress me in a little raincoat and big rubber rain boots. We would splash in the puddles until we got wet.
But that night… that rain… it was cold. It was harsh. It was cruel. 
As cruel as the men that dragged us away. As cruel as the gleam of metal in the dim alley. As cruel as the sound of thunder and the muted screams. As cruel as her face… mother’s face… Horrified. Screaming. Telling me it would be okay. Cruel as the violent shudders that overtook her as the bullets tore through her again and again.
Cruel as the loneliness of lying there. Cruel as the concrete I lay on. Alone. In pain.  Gripping a cold, cold hand. My mother’s hand. She was so cold…

“… mama…”

Why, God, why!? Why!? Why did you take her away from me? Why did you let this happen!? How could you!? I was eight years old! I was eight fucking years old! I was too young to die! Fuck! Why!?


Footsteps echoed in the alley. Shadows flitted across the walls. Voices, mingled and worried, rose up from the alley’s entry. Flashlight beams cut through the darkness.
“I’m going to try calling her cell again.”
“You have her number, Zeinken?”
“Yes, yes. Just give me a second… Come on mom, pick up…”
The alley was filled with the harsh blare of a ringtone.
“There! The alley!”
“Did she drop her phone?”
“I don’t know. Anat, stay here. Zeinken, Vale.”
“But Dad-“
“No arguing, Anat.”
The flashlight beams danced across the pavement… then stopped.
The cell phone continued to ring.
“Oh my god…”
“Evelyn!”
Diablo ran to her side and fell to his knees. “Evelyn!” He grabbed her by the shoulders, her limp body sagging in his grip. Her light brown hair was dark with blood.
“Zein!”
“Stay there Anat!”
“But-“
“Stay there!” Even Zeinken wished he hadn’t seen it, but it was too late now.
Anat knew. She knew why she was supposed to stay there. She was to shocked to cry, but the silence was worse than any tears.
Vale came up next to Diablo, slowly. He stopped a respectable distance away. The guard’s eyes were narrowed, and his fists were clenched at his sides.
Diablo glanced away from his wife, his eyes falling on Eriacu lying next to her. “Oh God…” He hesitantly reached forward and stroked his son’s face.
Eriacu stirred.
“Zeinken! Call 911 now!” Diablo shouted.
“This is all your fault,” Vale growled.
“Vale, now’s not the time.”
“I warned you. I told you she should never go out of the Museum alone. But you wouldn’t listen to me! You knew the Venantium were closing in on the Families and still you would not listen!”
“I said enough, Vale!” Diablo snapped, standing to his feet.
Vale shook his head, backing away from him. “Yes. Yes it is. Now she’s dead because of you.” His eyes gleamed like fire from the hate boiling inside him. “You never really loved her.”
“Vale-“
But Vale wasn’t listening. He pulled out his gun and put it to his head.
“Vale don’t!”
BANG!

In the distance, sirens began to scream.


“Zein, why did Vale do it?”
“For love.”
“I don’t get it…”
“Vale always loved our mother. He loved her very much. When she died, something inside him broke. He couldn’t live without her, so he joined her in death.”

I loved her too, Zein. I loved her very much. When she died, something inside me broke.
I died that night. I died with her and Vale.
Don’t mourn for me, Zein. Please. Don’t mourn for me.
I died long, long ago.


“He’s pulling through but he’s still not responding. When he wakes, he’ll need a lot of therapy. You have a family psychologist, right?”
Diablo just nodded, watching as Eriacu slept. Two months he’d been in a coma, recovering from the six bullets he’d taken in the chest and stomach.
“It’s a miracle, him pulling through and all,” the doctor continued. “You have a very strong boy there.”

Diablo watched and waited. The smell of rubbing alcohol and stainless steel filled his senses, but he was focusing all he could on the sweet cherry wood smell of his son’s soul, the periwinkle color flickering like a firefly.
The heart monitor beeped steadily. On and on it went. Endless. Maddening. But the sound could almost be loved. It was the sound of holding on.
Eriacu blinked, soft blue eyes finding a foreign, white ceiling above him.
“Eriacu?” Diablo asked softly.
Eriacu’s gaze turned downward. His eyes met Diablo’s.
Diablo sighed softly. He stood and crossed over to the bed. “You’re awake.”
Eriacu said nothing. Sleepiness was still in his eyes. He just lay there, tired and weak.
Diablo sat on the edge of the bed, taking his son’s hand in his. “You’re doing just fine Eriacu. You can come home in a few days.”
Eriacu murmured something. His lips moved, but hardly a sound came out.
“What?”
“You promised,” he murmured.
“Eriacu-“
“You promised. Now mama’s gone.” He met Diablo’s gaze. “Why Daddy?”
Diablo felt as though a knife had gone through his heart again. The image of his dead beloved in his arms flashed before his eyes. The wound in his heart was torn afresh and it bled misery all through his body.
Eriacu… such a perfect little copy of his wife. The same blue-violet eyes, the same soft, brown hair. It was as though she was there too, asking him why he hadn’t come. Why hadn’t he gone with and protected her? Why hadn’t he stopped her from going in the first place?
“Why?” he could hear her asking. “Why...?”
Diablo didn’t have the answer to that question, and he was afraid he never would.
“Eriacu… I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice soft and hollow. “It should be me lying in this bed, not you. I should have been there with her, to protect her. I was so stupid. Stupid and naïve. I assumed she would be safe enough. It was one stupid favor I asked her to do. One… one stupid mistake.”
Why couldn’t I be the one to die for her? Why Vale and not me?
His broken voice broke Eriacu as well. Tears flowed freely from his wide eyes. “You promised…” he whispered sadly.

Pinky, pinky bow-bell,
Whoever tells a lie
Will sink down to hell
And never rise up again.


And never rise up again.






Darkness.
That’s how all stories of tragedy begin, don’t they?
They begin with darkness.
I wasn’t in the darkness. I was the darkness. I was nothing but darkness and hollowed emptiness. 
Shot.
Again.
It was an accident. I still don’t know how it happened.
But I know the feeling.
The shudder. The thunder. The shock. The blood. The pain. And falling. Always falling.
I had been carried. I remember the dark navy aura of my older brother as he carried me.
Then darkness.
And here I am.
Consumed by endless oceans of darkness.
I’m too young to die.
I’ve only been on this earth fifteen years now.
So young. Too young.
The bullets.
The memories.
Is this it then? Is this how it ends? My life flashes before my eyes and then what? It’ll be over?
“Eriacu!”
A voice. A voice from long ago.
The darkness is still there, but there’s also a light now. A soft, hazy light. It takes the form of flowers, grass, leaves. 
The memories are back.
Stop it! Stop torturing me! I don’t want to see them anymore!
“Eriacu! Come here! Look!”
I don’t want to look, but I can’t control this darkness and these memories.
I see her. My mother. So beautiful and serene, just as I remember her. She’s sitting on the grass, the wind blowing through her hair. And she’s pointing over the rose bush.
“Look Eriacu! They’re butterflies.”
So delicate.
But stronger than you think.
No. I won’t follow this dream, this darkness. I won’t give in. I will live! I won’t die! I’m strong! I’m stronger than any butterfly! I’m stronger than that little boy lying in an alley bleeding to death! I’m stronger than Vale who killed himself for his twisted idea of love! I’m stronger! I’m strong!
I can be strong!
I can be strong!
I can be strong!
I can be…
…can…
I…
…be…
…strong…
…
…
…
…



...in the darkness,
the dead of night
a desperate soul spreads its wings
takes flight
and in the darkness, the deathly hue
of a pale form lying, so still then
and wide eyes so bright and blue

open

you are strong