The Knife of Never Letting Go

Calling for me–

Calling–

And this time I know–

This time I know–

I’m going to use it.

And I jump for it–

My hand outstretched–

My Noise so red I can barely see–

Yes, says the knife–

Yes.

Take me.

Take the power in yer hand–

But another hand is there first–

Viola.

And as I fall towards it there’s a rush in me–

A rush in my Noise–

A rush from seeing her there–

From seeing her alive–

A rush that rises higher than the red–

And “Viola,” I say–

Just “Viola”.

And she picks up the knife.

My momentum is tumbling me towards the edge and I’m turning to try and catch myself and I can see her lifting the knife and I can see her stepping forward and I’m falling into the ledge and my fingers are slipping on wet stone and I can see Aaron sitting up and he’s only got one eye now and it’s staring at Viola as she’s raising the knife and she’s bringing it forward and I can’t stop her and Aaron is trying to rise and Viola’s moving towards him and I’m hitting the ledge with my shoulder and stopping just short of falling over and I’m watching and what’s left of Aaron’s Noise is radiating anger and fear and it’s saying No—It’s saying Not you–

And Viola’s raising her arm–

Raising the knife–

And bringing it down–

And down–

And down–

And plunging it straight into the side of Aaron’s neck–

So hard the point comes out the other side–

And there’s a crunch, a crunch I remember–

Aaron falls over from the force of it–

And Viola lets go of the knife–

She steps back.

Her face is white.

I can hear her breathing over the roar.

I lift myself with my hands–

And we watch.

Aaron’s pushing himself up.

He’s pushing himself up, one hand clawing at the knife, but it stays in his neck. His remaining eye is wide open, his tongue lolling outta his mouth.

He gets to his knees.

And then to his feet.

Viola cries out a little and steps back.

Steps back till she’s next to me.

We can hear him trying to swallow.

Trying to breathe.

He steps forward but stumbles against the pulpit.

He looks our way.

His tongue swells and writhes.

He’s trying to say something.

He’s trying to say something to me.

He’s trying to make a word.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

His Noise is just wild colours and pictures and things I won’t ever be able to say.

He catches my eye.

And his Noise stops.

Completely stops.

At last.

And gravity takes his body and he slumps sideways.

Away from the pulpit.

And over the edge.

And disappears under the wall of water.

Taking the knife with him.

42. LAST ROAD TO HAVEN

Viola sits down next to me so hard and fast it’s like she fell there.

She’s breathing heavy and staring into the space where Aaron was. The sunlight thru the falls casts waves of watery light over her face but that’s the only thing on it that moves.

“Viola?” I say, leaping up into a squat next to her.

“He’s gone,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say. “He’s gone.”

And she just breathes.

My Noise is rattling like a crashing spaceship full of reds and whites and things so different it’s like my head is being pulled apart.

I woulda done it.

I woulda done it for her.

But instead–