LITERARY Blindness

BLINDNESS

MARIELLE NAVARRO

When he opened his eyes, he was met with a seemingly endless darkness; one that consumed his senses, almost like he was incomplete. His arms were there, he knew that as he flailed them around like a child. His torso was intact despite the ache spread all across it and perhaps, that is what signifies its attachment to the lower part of his body. His legs were in another state of discomfort, a tingling sensation enveloping his skin from the inside and scrambling to get out. He put a hand on his thigh just to check if there was anything wrong. There wasn’t, yet it didn’t feel right either.

His lack of sight seemed to be the culprit. That sense of not knowing what he looked like, even if his body felt relatively normal after the ritual, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know if he had sustained any injury or deformation, and that’s what left him unsure. The familiar feeling of doubt and dirty infidelity to her promises made him sick, and as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, his mouth betrayed his heart.

“What have you done?” He whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hot breath grazed over the skin of his neck gently, her breath, as she seemed to hug him from behind.

“My dear, do you doubt me?”

He choked back a sob.

Her arms tightened around him, almost too much, as she held him while his body shook. He subconsciously eased into her embrace and her warmth; a sensation he hadn’t felt in ages and one he missed. He still couldn’t see her, or anything at this point, and he had a feeling deep inside that this blindness will not be leaving as long as he stayed by her side.

But as he heaved, gasping for air in tears while she cooed him with reassuring words and her mere self pressed against him, his panic melted into acceptance. Love is blind after all.