The first time I fell in love, I was craven. Struck by it so fiercely, it consumed me. The feeling took over my mind, my body, my purpose; my very being. From the moment we met — both of us only children, playing on the cliffs that surrounded our home — a rivalry ensued.
If one learned to float, the other would learn to swim. If one learned to wield daggers, the other would learn to wield swords. If one learned to climb the steep, gray cliffs, the other would find a way to soar above them. Every instance in which one tried to rise above the other, they would find a way to best it.
Even after we had both grown long past adolescence, our rivalry was still as ebullient as ever. The steam of our competition never died off; if anything, the emotional toll had started to boil over for us both. For myself, the idea of besting the other began to pervade every aspect of my life. Thoughts of my lover plagued me throughout my day. I found myself constantly trying to bait my lover into challenges, and after awhile, I wondered if they’d begun doing the same.
Until one instance that neither one of us would have seen coming.
On one rare, particularly clear morning, I’d climbed down the cliffs to the small beach alcove near my home and started setting various fishing traps along the shore, as I’d done almost every morning of my once mundane life. My lover, gallantly as ever, took it upon themselves to soar down to the shore next to me, landing proud with their makeshift wings and a large fishing net in hand.
“And what are these? Traps?” my rival, soon to be lover, mocked. “How many herrings do you really end up catching with those? Two, maybe three? Ooo! Maybe today you’ll get four and each of you can have a whole herring to themselves.”
I was fuming with rage by that point but what they did next sent me past my breaking point. They stepped forward into the shallow waves and flicked the net out like a bedding sheet, landing in the water, spread out and ready. They looked back at me with a sly smile. “Watch this, Asinus.”
In a matter of moments, my lover was collecting the netting from the waters, struggling slightly to keep the netting closed as they hauled in their catch. When I saw how many herring the netting had caught in an eye’s blink, my anger was practically steaming from my flesh. All the times they’d proved themselves better, all the small moments they’d orchestrated to show me and everyone else just how much better they were, it all rose to the surface. The weight of it all came crashing into me and I’d had enough.
I stormed up to my rival, splashing water on both of us. The waves splashed up to my knees and I ensured we were face to face when I seethed, “Why do you even bother? You hate me, I hate you. You’ve proven yourself to be the better mind, the better dualer, the faster traveler, the most devout to your cause. If it were up to me, I’d have rid myself of you the moment we met. So why do you bother?”
We stood in silence for a while. My lover seemed taken aback at first, then reflective as they returned my seething stare. When they looked away, so did I.
I stormed off, my previous task abandoned for petty feelings. I would’ve left our rivalry there if it’d been up to me in that moment. But, as it’d been our entire relationship, whether rival or lover, they were always the one in control.
My lover grabbed my wrist. Spun me around. And kissed me so ravenously, it was like I was suddenly put under their spell. Not only was that our last fight as rivals, but it was our first fight as lovers; little did either of us know, it would be a long time before our last fight ensued.
From that moment on the shore, the waves and my lover crashing into me, I fell. I fell so in love, I was blinded to how much more toxic being lovers was than being rivals ever could’ve been. Sure, we had been consumed with our rivalry but this… This love brought out the worst version of us both. We began a love just as ravenous as our rivalry had been, like insects devouring decay. We loved each other like wolves ripped apart their prey, like fungi consumed a rotted forest. We took and took and took from each other, until both of us were left raw and empty.
Our love changed everything; how I saw the world, therefore, how I saw myself and the future I could have. Not only was I planning a future for myself — a life beyond the village I’d grown up in — but now, I was beginning to concern myself with how my lover would fit into this future I’d always dreamed. My efforts no longer went to the bettering of myself but rather, how I could better my lover. So the moment I realized my lover was harvesting my effort, my love, like they’d harvested those herrings that day of our first lovers spat — I broke. Something inside of me, in my soul, began to rot. To decay. I became what our love once devoured. Became the feeble prey my lover ripped apart.
My first love changed everything. Perhaps, in the end, that was the reason why I had to kill her.
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