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Tourniquet By:
Sinead Author’s
Note: You know, I
thought that I had finished this, but apparently, Fate had other
ideas. I’m glad that I can finish this off in a fine style, and I
hope that you enjoy it as much as you have said you enjoyed the other
stories as well as the series I wrote for Sapphire, posted upon her
site. Thus, that being said, I do now own Evanescence, their song
“Tourniquet,” Dinobot, or Beast Wars. HOWEVER, I found a loophole,
and I own Donovan. I like that idea, especially since he seems to own
my heart in return . . . I
tried to kill the pain But
only brought more Dinobot,
now renamed Donovan, watched the back of the young woman in front of
him on a slightly better bike than what he was riding. It had been
over a year since the accident, and she said that it was time to go
back. Donovan hadn’t been so sure, but Sinead insisted that if she
didn’t go back, she would never be able to face that location again. He
sighed, and pedaled faster, catching up to Sinead, who was silent. His
mind wandered to the events of April 27, 2003. I
lay dying And
I’m pouring crimson regret and betrayal Looking
up at her tear-stained face . . . then seeing her soul, the
natural blinding brightness somewhere within her body dimmed by pain
and anguish, when his Spark left his body. He saw the true Sinead
within, one was lonely, grieving, unable to want to go on . . . but
she would have to. He’d make sure that she would, although how . . .
was a separate issue altogether at the time. The
process had been painless, separating soul from “flesh,” Donovan
remembered. Painless, and almost a relief. But
there was the emotional pain of leaving a precious one behind . . . as
well as leaving behind beloved friends. I’m
dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming Am
I too lost to be saved? Am
I too lost? Sinead
watched the road in front of her for cracks and potholes. She knew
that Donovan was watching her, worrying about her, that she’d lose
complete control. In fact, that’s what she had anticipated all
along. She didn’t think that she would be able to handle this.
That’s why she had brought her fiancé along with her. That’s also
why they didn’t ask her father to use the car, since she was
visiting with him this weekend. My
God, my tourniquet Return
to me salvation Donovan
saw the road start to curve to the right up ahead. Sinead slowed down,
and they reached an intersection. There was a white cross upon the
other corner, on the left side. The young woman dismounted from the
bike, and stood next to it, waiting for a break in the cars. Donovan
did the same, but took Sinead’s hand in his own, holding it firmly
before she ran across the street. My
God, my tourniquet Return
to me salvation After
they reached the other side, she looked back and whispered,
“That’s where the bike and the car collided . . .” “’Nead
. . .” “I’m-I’m
fine, Dinobot. Just remembering.” She
walked over to the cross, then stood before it for nearly five
minutes, oblivious to the fact that there were cars pushing the speed
limit behind her. Some passengers watched her as she stood there.
Others didn’t seem to care. To
you remember me? Lost
for so long Donovan
sighed, and rested his bike down upon the dead, yellowed grass, and
walked up to beside Sinead. “Let me put your bike over there with
mine.” She
nodded, still lost in thought, and actually jumped, when her fiancé
rested his arm around her waist, watching her intently. She blinked up
at him sadly, then pointed to a small piece of metal tied to the
cross. “That was one of the brake handles.” Will
you be on the other side Or
will you forget me? Donovan
sighed, and rested his forehead upon her shoulder, realizing not for
the first time that she had seen something here, that she should have
been spared from. That she could have been spared from,
but wasn’t. He knew her story, her pain, as she had told him upon
the first night they had met. She had been a wreck, crying harder than
he knew a human could, unable to take a full breath between
body-wracking sobs. She was starting to bottle her emotions up again,
trying to be “brave,” when he had practically ordered her to keep
releasing the tension, the pain, the feeling of helplessness . . . If
only she knew that he wept of the injustice that happened to her,
after he had placed her in her own bed and left his sword with her. I’m
dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming Am
I too lost to be saved? Am
I too lost? Sinead
looked up at Donovan, then asked in a whisper, “Are you okay?” “Our
first meeting . . . I was thinking of it . . . and you . . . you
don’t know what you caused me to do afterwards.” Turning,
Sinead reached up to rest her hands upon the place where Donovan’s
neck met his shoulders, and said softly, “Please tell me it wasn’t
something bad.” My
God, my tourniquet Return
to me salvation He
bowed his head, and felt the old pain resurface. Sinead lead him to
near their bikes, which were to the left of the cross, and sat him
down, before sitting next to him and holding his hands, warming them
slightly. The young man sighed, and said in a cracked voice, “I
bawled like an infant. I had seen too many deaths, heard too many of
my comrades scream out in agony . . . felt too many of my
battle-partners’ mech-fluid run through my fingers, unable to stop
them from dying. . . . You saw a small bit of what my life had been
like before the Wars, when you witnessed this . . . this atrocity that
occurred here.” “Why
didn’t you come through and wake me up?” “You
were exhausted, ’Nead. You didn’t need to be woken up by a warrior
who was supposed to be almost emotionless.” My
God, my tourniquet Return
to me salvation “Dinobot
. . .” Sinead sighed. “You don’t even wake me up after one of
your nightmares. Promise me that you will, from now on.” Donovan
nodded, able to make that promise. Sinead, however, had another
promise in store for him. He asked what it was, and she said, “You
have to kill yourself, in a sense. Right here, right now. I’m doing
that right now, sitting here, looking at what I looked at over a year
ago, seeing exactly what I saw when that man was killed, even when it
was the end of summer. Promise me that you’ll let go of your past,
letting that part of you die, and that what you’ll life for the
future, not live for tormenting yourself over something that you
can’t change, but something that you can learn from, and
learn to accept as training for something else.” The
taller human looked down at his wife-to-be, then smiled, and rubbed at
his eyes. She pulled his hands away, and wiped the tears away herself. My
wounds cry for the grave My
soul cries for deliverance Will
I be denied Christ? He
nodded, sighing shakily. “I swear upon my honor, that I’ll do my
best in trying to do that.” His already-bright-blue eyes brightened
to their usual hue, as he whispered, “I love you.” Sinead
embraced him, and whispered, “Bring me to life. I know that you
already love me. Do something different for a change.” He
chuckled, and helped her stand, before replying, “But, you remember
that you’ve already brought me to life . . . I’ll
think about returning the favor.” “Ouch,
that stung! The same applies from me to you. Where do you think I
would be by now, if you hadn’t shown up?” Sinead replied. She
looked up at him, and said, “I love you, too. Let’s go to CVS.
There’s one down that way. I’ll get you a soda or something.” “Sounds
wonderful to me.” Tourniquet My
suicide As
they ran back across the street, and started to bike off again,
Donovan felt something within his chest shift. Something had been
left behind, but it wasn’t anything of who he, Dinobot, really was. The old Dinobot/Donovan was dead, as well as the old Sinead, on November 22, 2003. Born anew they were, and together, never alone, would they face their future. |