8:35 pm

It puts their life in perspective. Harsh, white-light perspective. When they're the third party, watching from a distance, they begin to compare, one life to another. Your life to hers, her life to his, their lives; all comparisons. They watch from a distance, because there's nothing more they can do; their hands don't stretch that far, and neither to their tears; they puddle at their feet, useless. They are useless. What can they do, from their lives to affect hers? What can they say that can possibly make any difference? Nothing. Of all the intelligence and all the love, there's not a damned thing they can do; even their love doesn't stretch that far.

They know now what it's like, to watch destruction from a distance. Like bombs going off in all different shades of gray. But the surface is black. The space behind their eyes drips with white-hot tears and their face is ashen. They are the empaths. They feel what she feels, but from a distance. But no amount of feeling will change the inevitable outcome; there's only so much one human being can stand. Only so much joy, only so much pain, only so much loss, only so much love, but only from a distance.

They know now what it's like, to be helpless. To have their feet encased in cement and to feel, everything she feels, but unable to move to hold her. They know what it's like to grieve for something they have no control over. They have red vines attached to their arms and to their legs and they cannot go anywhere. They are trapped, and they now know what that's like.

They know no, what it's like to hate. To hate and loath with every fiber. They hate him. It's his fault, more than any one elses. They blame him. He did this. He created them, or so 'they' say, he rules, 'they' will follow what he says. Did he say this? Did he say to do this? They hate him, and everything he represents.

But most of all, they hate holding such a precious life in their hands, and watching it die.

+ + +

exitus