My Beautiful Broken Savior

I watch.

I've sat here everyday, all year.

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall.

People walk by. They have a different destination, but their eyes can't help but wonder down to the other ones carved in stone. Their eyes run over my words and numbers, only briefly. I've heard them mutter things.

"Such a young thing…" they whisper to each other, after figuring the dates in their heads. They keep walking.

"Beautiful name…" I've heard. They keep walking also.

One child comes later. A small lollipop in her left hand, she's unaware of how I long for the taste of sweets. She brushes away, with her small foot, the leaves that have fallen, covering my name and birthday. The charming little yellow haired girl doesn't have time to brush back the debris covering the last date before she's called by her mother to keep up.

Once I heard a man mutter, as his expensive shoes clacked past where I lie, "I feel as though I'm being watched."

"Nonsense…" said his young bride, "Darling, you're going barking mad. Let's get out of here…"

Though, I could tell she felt me too.

Each walk by. Hands in pockets, heads downcast, most in black, carrying flowers, carrying children. Month after month. None knew me. Most don't even bother to do anything but run there eyes over my stone in an insensible way.

They all just hope that it won't be them anytime soon.

Anthony comes today.

He has tears in his eyes before he even makes his way through the gate. He makes a beeline for me, stretching his legs to step over the other stones, his boots clomping over the others. No one seems to ever notice what they're walking over besides dry grass when you step into a cemetery.

He makes it to my grave and uses a handkerchief in his breast pocket to wipe away the leaves that have fallen from the large tree up above me. He carefully pulls out the grass growing over the angel on my stone and replaces the dead flowers that lay next to my name with the new ones he is carrying in his left hand.

Lilies - my favorite.

"Thank you, love…" I whisper, "I was getting tiered of looking at those dreadful things," I crack a smile to his face, so close to mine now that I had bent down to where he knelt. I wish I could feel his lips on mine again.

He shivers.

He knows I'm there.

Not literally, but he feels it nonetheless.

"Johanna…" his tears choke out. He doesn't have the choice whether or not to mutter my name when he comes here. It flows out with his watery eyes. Usually, it's all he can say.

I sometimes find my tears whispering his name back to him.

He hears it in he wind.

"Anthony…"

Clouds roll overhead and I notice little drops of water forming on my love's bare arms and on my concrete angel.

"Course…" he mutters. "Doesn't rain for a month and as soon as I come here, it decides too…"

"Isn't that much of a surprise…" I mumble with another smile he can't see, "You're here every other day," I laugh.

He longs for my laugh, I see it behind his closed, wishing eyes.

Anthony has always been my savior. The only one who cared enough to do something about that helpless little girl, singing to her birds in the window day after day. But now he looked so…broken. It hurt me to see him like that…even now, after all the pain is over with and gone.

My beautiful broken savior.

I'm positive he wishes that he never saw me. He would rather have me still alive, and trapped behind those windows and walls like iron bars, then here, lying six feet beneath his boots.

He can't see me. He can't see me now as I lean in front of him smiling, near enough for my yellow hair to tickle his cheeks. He can't hear my wishes for him to move on from me. To live life fully and happily. To keep sailing, even if it means he can't visit me three times every week like he does.

I'm happy I met him. I would never wish anything different, even though it lead me to where I am now.

"I'm sorry Johanna…" I hear him mumble between sobs. What a heartbreaking sight - to see a grown man crying on a grave like so. "If I wasn't such a blasted fool you'd still be here…"

"Now don't say things like that, love…" even if it's true…

"I wish I was the one who had drunken that tea…I would do anything to trade spots with you,"

I wish he would stop bringing up that day. I wish instead of coming to my grave to cry and moan about his regrets, he'd talk and laugh about all the fun things we did in the year and a half that we were married.

But instead he just goes on.

"Now love…don't say that…how were you to know that the merchant whom was selling the tea had snuck the poison in it…just a bloody fool, he was, to think arsenic made a flavoring…" I simply want to lighten the mood, but he keeps sobbing.

"I should have never bought and given it to you," he groans and stands up. I watch as he takes his sleeve and wipes up his tears and snot with it to reveal a rather bitter face.

I appear by the right side of him. I long to run my hand down his cheek…I suddenly become aware that his right hand has been hidden under his cloak this whole time.

The rain begins to fall harder. His hair is soaked through and dripping water to the drenched ground.

"I can't stand living without you Johanna."

For a moment, I just smile and shake my head, and I'm about to mutter out some more meaningless words along the lines of, Don't be silly, love. You have so much else to live for…

…when Anthony pulls a pistol out from behind his coat.

My dead heart sinks in my chest.

He holds the pistol to his temple.

"Really?" I laugh…I had spent so much time learning not to be the negative one…it took so many months to give myself a sense of humor worth something. It was my only defense now. To make a joke. "Really? In a cemetery as the sun is going down? You're just going to end it all?"

He cocks it. He isn't joking like I was hoping he is. He's all too serious. Tears are aggressively falling down his cheeks now, but I can tell he hardly notices them.

Perhaps if he could somehow know that I was here…if I could somehow show him my narrowing brows, or my eyes growing wider and wider, or my head shaking so violently, no…no…no… he wouldn't do it.

"Anthony!" I shout. If I'm loud enough, can he perhaps hear me? "Anthony think about the baby! What about our baby! He doesn't have his mother now he needs his father!" my tears match his now. I can see it in his eyes, he wants his life to end. But how could he? How could he?

"I don't know what else to do, Johanna!" he sobs. "Now that you're dead and the baby's dead…"

My world suddenly stops turning. The baby's dead… our little baby boy…dead? And that's it? I didn't know how or for how long…he's simply gone…and I'm just as of right now finding out about it. That's it then…

I long to hear Anthony tell me how or when or where or why...anything! I want to grasp onto his clothing and sink to my knees in anguish. Why wasn't I aware? Living here in perfect peace while my husband and child suffered?

I was living so wonderfully.

But now I see, I've simply been living in Hell.

Not even living - I have to remind myself - I'm dead.

The world began to spin again. The wind whips my love's hair back and forth again, the rain is drenched through his clothes and spilling down his slippery finger that lingers on the trigger of the gun.

And I stand here, unchanged by the weather, unchanged by the time that's passed. What an awful way to be.

"…I can't see what to live for. I had everything and I lost it all… I just want the pain to pass…"

I close my eyes as the shot rings out.

And I wait for my loves hand to be in my own.


So after a nice walk around the cemetery in my neighborhood today, I took to writing that sad little bit!

I guess this came because I always tell everyone that, in my head, it's not fair that Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett died and Anthony and Johanna didn't

So there, haha.

Hm…I'm so morbid!

Reviews will be loved!