I was real, real quiet, as I watched silly pictures dance across my walls. The hotel manager must have put these here as a point of entertainment. The hotel manager must have put these here, in this shitty hotel room, to make the walls more appealing. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t notice the water stains? Moonlight shone on one particular one, a kitsch oil painting of a cannon. In my mind, the cannon’s fuse was sparking insanely.

I waited desperately for the progression of the flame towards the steel body of the cannon. When it went off, would it blow through the wall? Would it blow out the window? If it did, it might actually make the window better. The window had a large crack in it, and this ancient trench of glass split the light that traveled through it. I am beginning to mind less and less these silly pictures that hang in my room.

I am lying awake, just waiting for the painting to come alive. Thinking of you. You would be here in the morning. You would be so angry with me. My blue eyes stung at the thought of your anger. You sent me here; you asked me a small favor, which I completed. But when it was over there was no place to go. You would say I am on the enemy side. I love you, but who is the enemy, when the home team was not so hospitable? The clock struck 3 when I knew. I broke your rules. I am absolutely insane. You told me that, once, when you rushed your fingers through my black hair. I was so angry with you. Who did you think you were, assuming we shared the same feelings about each other? Well, whoever you are, you were right. I just didn’t like you knowing my feelings so well. The clock now rang out across town 4 times. It was 4 a.m. you promised to be here by 5.

In my mind, the cannon went off. It blew nothing apart, but it did, however, blow me straight from beneath the covers. My legs were pale as the moon, as they danced across my floor to the adjacent dresser. I scampered quickly, and threw on a slip dress. It was the only thing I could find, with out searching real hard. But it didn’t matter much anyway. In my white, lacey, dress, I looked a mess, as my nervous blue eyes searched for something to write on.

I scribbled you a note in the cursive I used when I wasn’t thinking. No one could ever read it, except you. I apologized for my transgressions I made upon you. I told you I gave you love, and anger, and I meant them both. I told you I would see you soon, when the whole world was blue. I told you I loved you, and sincerely, and I told you my name, that you already knew. You would already know whom the letter was from, and you would already know what it said, but I asked you forgiveness, and I signed my name, Guinevere, on the stained paper that was attached to the note pad that came with the room.

I was silent in the act of opening my door in the night. In case some one heard me, I grabbed a big dagger that I knew I wouldn’t use, well, unless. I was a ghost in the halls of the hotel, dancing down the stairs. My legs were pale, smooth, and my short slip fluttering across my thighs as I ran down the stairs. My arms were thin, and flowing as I kept my balance in each flight. My hair waved behind my, all black, and long. At the bottom step, I stood in the lobby, contemplating the likeliness of getting past the clerk. I remembered my dagger, and I remembered how good I was at walking on creaky floors. On my toes, I leaped across the lobby in the quietest way. My heels had not been used once tonight.

I opened the door however I felt. I would be gone before anyone realized I was running. It was raining hard, out there on the cobble stone streets. The air smelled like the blue ocean, only a mile down this street. My cheeks felt fresh in the air that contained little molecules of water. I ran towards it, full speed. Little puddles kept getting in my way. My white legs were stained with little pieces of sediment, accompanied by watered down mud, and the occasional piece of rotting garbage that no one had bothered to pick up. It made me want to run a little faster. Disgraces…

A ghost in the street, running past hookers and the homeless, I ran as fast as I could, with no camouflage, but the insanity of the purple rings under my eyes, and the salty tears begging to leave their sockets. I was no different then them. The dagger shook at my side as my arms flew back and forth over each stone that stood in between me, and the ocean. I could hear the waves spitting against the sand on the beach.

First my thighs, then my knees, then my ankles were stained with this concoction. It was all backwards, just like when we met. It was all backwards, as I closed in on my location. My hair was soaked down, and hitting my back with each step I took in this run that had seemed to last hours. The make up from last night dripped and smeared down my face. My mascara was no longer on my eyelashes. On the night I met you I looked just like this. You wiped the mascara from my face. That time I stopped, this time, however, I wouldn’t let it happen again.

I was three blocks away, now. I could see the dock. My dagger tight in my hand, I tried to go faster, faster. A man was standing on the corner, just like you were. I remember you had a top hat, so does he. Shit, it’s happening all over again. But this time I know I can change it. I keep running. “Guinevere!” the man calls. I want to scream. This is when I had stopped. This time, I will keep running. He keeps calling, “Guinny, Guinny, come here! Come here Baby!” Only you call me Guinny. I remember asking how you know my name, and you said, “I’ve got sources, “ . I was positive that if I stopped again, this time, he would say the same. Guinny, Guinny, Guinny, the voices ran through my mind. Guinny, Guinny. Why? Why!?

“Don’t do it, Guinevere!” He laughed. But I kept running towards the dock. I had to go. Faster, Faster, Faster. The dock was yards away. So close. This would be all over. The silver hairs on my white arm rose in their follicles as my goose bumps came alive. A few more feet! The water splashed my shins clean when I threw my dagger into the waves to never be found again. I was at the end of the dock, and the fresh March air of the ocean froze my lips. Lightening struck as I glided into the air off of the dock.

My eyes were wide open as they went underwater. My knees went down first, and last was the hand that I left up in the air. My middle finger tip was last to be engulfed. That’s to you, life. I breathed out all my air. I started to sink. I was shivering so hard, but it was best. My eyes were open and burning. I was crying underwater, I think. It hurt so much. But finally, it was numbed down. I was still sinking; being shook and carried into the ocean, tossed carelessly in the waves. I was floating real light on each molecule of water I was just hanging there, on top of what was below me, and under what was above me. I looked around, and I think I saw a glimmer. Maybe it was my dagger.

This was when I needed air. I needed it bad, but if I swam up, I would be at the risk of going in this treacherous circle all over again. My spine shivered at the thought, or it was just my reaction to thee intense cold. My lips, and fingertips, and toes, and eyes, were all turning blue. Blue, the most human color. I felt the most human. The sleep left my eyes, and my muscles relaxed. I was so cold. My dress had wrinkled above my neck. I was bare underwater, letting the water do what it want to my clothing. I was naked beneath my slip, and as it slowly withered off, I felt so whole. I needed this. I needed to drown. Who doesn’t, once in awhile?

Water began to fill my lungs, and my life flashed before my eyes. I saw the place where this had all started. And finally, it would end.

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