The Death of a Lover

Julian hung his head over his bathroom sink. He was sweaty from the surgery. He had done these surgeries before, but this was the first time it ended with taking someone’s life. Looking at the mirror he tried to recognize himself, but he could tell there were already parts of him that were missing.

He justified to himself that by taking this life, he would bring life to someone new. He convinced himself that doing this would be a scientific breakthrough that could save the lives of others. These rationals were true, of course, but that didn’t necessarily make it ethically or morally right.

Although he had left his gloves and scrubs in the trash, he still felt dirty, as if he was covered in blood. He squirted soap into his hands and began to scrub. At first, the scrubbing seemed to be pointless, but as he scrubbed more vigorously he felt the skin start to wear. This would get him clean for sure he thought.

He scrubbed harder as the skin on his forearm began to break through. Blood began seep out from a small cut and Julian started to rinse. A little pain after what he put that young girl through was an easy price to pay. Julian finished rinsing, turned off the water and stood there looking at the mirror while water dripped from his hands. The light flickered and then went out. He felt that was poetic since he had just extinguished the life of his former lover.

He stood there in darkness hoping the next time would be easier. There would be more. There had to be more. If not, her life would have been taken in vain. Another justification. Another rationale. Another lie to himself. Another reason to keep going.