will would always get on ass about those pills. are you taking your pills? when is your appointment scheduled? can i give you a ride to the doctor? and so on and so on. why did he have to be like that? why couldn't he let her die in peace? it was becoming clear he couldn't leave her alone, that he was like a puppy; warm and loyal and trusting by her side. val would think about the night he'd talk in his sleep, saying things that made her want to eat him alive... things like "for you only bluebells will do" and "i never knew it would be so good." sometimes making love was more than either one could bear. she would have to stare at the telephone or think of her schedule. anything to delay the impact of reality.
val's cold green eyes were the surveying sort, the kind that could freeze grapes right on the vine. she knew angel had them too. caroline sent her a picture on her second birthday. val was not surprised. she knew this little girl despite the fact they had never met. she had power compacted into her eyes that would most likely be confused with brattiness, especially with caroline raising her. and the power made val fall into a trance. it was almost otherworldly� like the first time she ever saw the old guitarist hanging at the art institute. she had to stop and stare, not thinking of earthly things, but of that realm just beyond where there are no words.
when will asked about her pills, val telepathically sprouted an icicle on his spine with her cold green eyes. it wasn't that she appreciate him, or love him - she loved him intensely. more accurately she loved him so much that she began putting distance between them. she couldn't have her true love falling for an ill woman, she wouldn't let it happen. instead she focused on her photography. she bought a new red coat and matching red shoes. anything that said stop. and when that wasn't enough, one day she closed the gates. she simply cut the string. he sent her notes in bottles and tossed them through open windows, picked flowers and spread the petals on her stairway, he wrote poems, he tried everything. one night, when all else had failed and he knew she wasn�t going to give in, he sat on the floor outside of her apartment and cried and wailed and screamed like a baby � occasionally pounding his fists. she sat on the other side of course, breathing in hair and spit and coughing along with him - but never opened the door. when the police came they grabbed will by the collar. val had a swollen red face of salt that matched his. the police asked her if she knew him, and she said "i am a stranger to this man." the policemen didn't have quick enough brains to register that she hadn't said "this man is a stranger," so they though it nothing out of the ordinary. will responded with �i am dead.� which police interpreted as �you are dead� and promptly tossed him out on the pavement.
two years have passed, val takes her pills and stares at potted violets and wonders if will will ever come back.