Post by racheldaninja on May 4, 2009 16:49:33 GMT -5
WARNING: use of profane language and suicide. Enjoy!
I stared at the razor sitting on the desk in my room. I knew what I was doing was completely wrong, but it was what I wanted. I kept staring at the razor, pulling me in every second I looked at it. What he did to me was wrong, and even if I did live on, I wouldn't forgive him. I took a step closer to my desk, waiting for someone to stop me. Waiting for him to stop me. I took another step, letting my hatred and fury take center-stage.
"Fuck!" I yelled and grabbed the razor, holding it tight enough to cut my hand. I looked at the blood tracing down my hand and felt how cold it was. Just like how my eyes must've looked. I had no other emotion but pain. I turned to my closed door, waiting for someone to stop me. Waiting for him to stop me.
I opened my hand, feeling the razor push away from my cut palm. I lifted it with my other hand and sat on my floor, starting to cut words into my arm. I'm sorry
I let the razor bore into my skin and felt the physical pain I was hoping for. This kind of pain was better than the emotional I was suffering. I cried and screamed out, it did hurt, but I felt relieved that the physical pain had replaced my emotional distress. I didn't feel sad anymore, I felt neutral. I felt like someone had taken away every painful memory I've ever had and replaced it with normal, boring memories. I had no reason to be sad when I felt like this.
The razor cut into my arm, leaving behind the beginnings of I'm sorry. I felt bad for whatever it was I had done to him, what had made him hurt me like he had. I finished cutting I'm sorry into my arm and moved to the other, watching the blood trail down from each letter. I started writing I didn't mean it into my other arm, letting the emotional pain escape from every inch of my cut skin. I looked down past my arms at the floor, now stained red with blood, and frowned at how bright it was.
My blood was bright, but the heart that beat that blood was dark and cold.
I looked back at my door, waiting for someone to stop me. I didn't want this, but I knew it was the only way I could feel normal, even if only for a second. I wanted him to bust down the door and stop me. To tell me it was okay. To apologize. Sing me my favorite song. Sing me my song. I stared for another minute, waiting for a knock or anything to tell me that someone cared about me. Nothing.
"That bastard." I muttered and tore at my skin, now with my fingernails. I felt bad for thinking about leaving everyone. My family, my so-called friends. I thought about what he might do if I left, how he would react.
"I bet he's too busy with that bitch of a girlfriend he's got now to give a shit about me." I muttered again. "What does she have that I don't? Money? Popularity? When the fuck did he give a shit about popularity or any of that? He loved me, and I loved him."
I stopped tearing at my skin for a second and thought over everything. I took several deep breaths and pulled the scrapbook I made him for Valentine's Day, just a few weeks away now, from under my bed. I looked at the cover, red and black with hearts. I felt a tear trace down my red face and opened the cover to picture upon picture of us together. At my 5th birthday party, the first day of middle school, the first day of high school. Picture after picture, the memories flooded back and I felt the slight uneasiness of being happy. I moved through the book, looking at how stressed we were when tests came around, or how childish we were in our first years of high school. I got to our junior year, otherwise known as our first year together as a couple. Tears streamed down my face as I moved through each picture, touching his face with my bloody fingers. I left my fingerprint on most of the pictures, turning his face red. I stopped at Prom 2007; the theme was Happily Ever After.
I saw the picture my mom took of me walking down the stairs. I looked like a princess with my hair up and draped in glitter and flowers. My dress was a brilliant dark blue, knee length, and it sparkled and let off rainbows in the right light. I wore small pumps, making me just an inch or two taller. All that, though, wasn't enough to compare to how he looked.
His tux was so tailored to him it looked painted on. It gave off a brilliant sheen in the light, making a white line across his arms. His cute little bow tie was amazing on him, tied just so. He stood next to my mom, his smile distracting me from walking. I remember tripping when I first saw him, and he took a leap up the stairs, helping me steady myself. I looked up at him, my face turning red. He smiled the smile he knew made my knees weak and my heart race.
I shook my head and cleared my mind of that memory. I moved through the pictures we had taken at the high school, from the formal prom picture to our kiss under the stars. The tears running down my face were collecting on the picture of our kiss, taken by his big brother. I turned away from the picture back to the door. I looked around, seeing everything in my head. The wild party with just me and him, when she showed up and took him away, my never-ending heartbreak. I screamed. All this pain was too much for my body to handle. I dropped to my side in pain, still screaming.
I racked my brain, trying to think of a way to get my heart to stop hurting. I looked at what was laying next to my hand. I felt the connection erupt in my head, and I grabbed it and closed my eyes. I ran my finger across the sharp edge of the razor I had used already. I heard a car door slam from outside, but didn’t pay any attention to it. I raised my hand, turning onto my back. I writhed in pain still, but I was silent while I said my last goodbyes internally.
I’ll miss you Mom and Dad.
I’ll miss you Rachel, thanks for being with me always.
I’ll miss you Jonas family, you were my second family.
I’ll miss you Kevin, my almost big brother.
I’ll miss you Joseph, my monkey boy.
I’ll miss you Frankie, the little brother I’d wanted.
I paused before I continued. I couldn’t say his name, no matter how hard I tried. I thought of his perfect brown eyes, always warm and comforting. His lips perfectly shaped and pulled back into a smile. Then my mind moved to the girl who stole him from me. The scene played in my head once again and the heartbreak was unbearable. I threw my arm down onto my chest, the razor sticking out.
I screamed once again and heard my door slam open. I gasped for air, my lungs and heart throbbing. My eyes were still closed and they burst open, wide with fear. I looked at my door, now open, and deciphered who was watching me die.
I kept gasping for air and watched the intruder walk over to me. He came into view and my heart started racing. I could feel the blood leaving my body, and he dropped on his knees and slowly pulled me into his arms.
“Shh. It’s gonna be okay.” He whispered. I stared at him, my eyes full of doubt, wonder and fear. I didn’t believe I was still alive. There was no way he would be here, holding me like he used to. I had to be dead already. I kept struggling to breathe and tried to figure out why he was here.
“Nicky?” I gasped. He looked down at me, his eyes comforting.
“Shh. Bella, it’s gonna be okay. I won’t hurt you.” He whispered.
“What-“ I started. I was cut off by Nick putting his fingers on my lips.
“Stop. The ambulance is almost here. You’ll be fine.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I looked forward, avoiding his eyes. I realized how tired I felt. All this crying and screaming had left me hurt and exhausted. I looked back up at Nick, my eyes struggling to stay open. He nodded.
“It’s okay, sleep. You’ll need it to recover. I love you.” I heard his voice fade away with each word as my eyes closed and I fell asleep.
I stared at the razor sitting on the desk in my room. I knew what I was doing was completely wrong, but it was what I wanted. I kept staring at the razor, pulling me in every second I looked at it. What he did to me was wrong, and even if I did live on, I wouldn't forgive him. I took a step closer to my desk, waiting for someone to stop me. Waiting for him to stop me. I took another step, letting my hatred and fury take center-stage.
"Fuck!" I yelled and grabbed the razor, holding it tight enough to cut my hand. I looked at the blood tracing down my hand and felt how cold it was. Just like how my eyes must've looked. I had no other emotion but pain. I turned to my closed door, waiting for someone to stop me. Waiting for him to stop me.
I opened my hand, feeling the razor push away from my cut palm. I lifted it with my other hand and sat on my floor, starting to cut words into my arm. I'm sorry
I let the razor bore into my skin and felt the physical pain I was hoping for. This kind of pain was better than the emotional I was suffering. I cried and screamed out, it did hurt, but I felt relieved that the physical pain had replaced my emotional distress. I didn't feel sad anymore, I felt neutral. I felt like someone had taken away every painful memory I've ever had and replaced it with normal, boring memories. I had no reason to be sad when I felt like this.
The razor cut into my arm, leaving behind the beginnings of I'm sorry. I felt bad for whatever it was I had done to him, what had made him hurt me like he had. I finished cutting I'm sorry into my arm and moved to the other, watching the blood trail down from each letter. I started writing I didn't mean it into my other arm, letting the emotional pain escape from every inch of my cut skin. I looked down past my arms at the floor, now stained red with blood, and frowned at how bright it was.
My blood was bright, but the heart that beat that blood was dark and cold.
I looked back at my door, waiting for someone to stop me. I didn't want this, but I knew it was the only way I could feel normal, even if only for a second. I wanted him to bust down the door and stop me. To tell me it was okay. To apologize. Sing me my favorite song. Sing me my song. I stared for another minute, waiting for a knock or anything to tell me that someone cared about me. Nothing.
"That bastard." I muttered and tore at my skin, now with my fingernails. I felt bad for thinking about leaving everyone. My family, my so-called friends. I thought about what he might do if I left, how he would react.
"I bet he's too busy with that bitch of a girlfriend he's got now to give a shit about me." I muttered again. "What does she have that I don't? Money? Popularity? When the fuck did he give a shit about popularity or any of that? He loved me, and I loved him."
I stopped tearing at my skin for a second and thought over everything. I took several deep breaths and pulled the scrapbook I made him for Valentine's Day, just a few weeks away now, from under my bed. I looked at the cover, red and black with hearts. I felt a tear trace down my red face and opened the cover to picture upon picture of us together. At my 5th birthday party, the first day of middle school, the first day of high school. Picture after picture, the memories flooded back and I felt the slight uneasiness of being happy. I moved through the book, looking at how stressed we were when tests came around, or how childish we were in our first years of high school. I got to our junior year, otherwise known as our first year together as a couple. Tears streamed down my face as I moved through each picture, touching his face with my bloody fingers. I left my fingerprint on most of the pictures, turning his face red. I stopped at Prom 2007; the theme was Happily Ever After.
I saw the picture my mom took of me walking down the stairs. I looked like a princess with my hair up and draped in glitter and flowers. My dress was a brilliant dark blue, knee length, and it sparkled and let off rainbows in the right light. I wore small pumps, making me just an inch or two taller. All that, though, wasn't enough to compare to how he looked.
His tux was so tailored to him it looked painted on. It gave off a brilliant sheen in the light, making a white line across his arms. His cute little bow tie was amazing on him, tied just so. He stood next to my mom, his smile distracting me from walking. I remember tripping when I first saw him, and he took a leap up the stairs, helping me steady myself. I looked up at him, my face turning red. He smiled the smile he knew made my knees weak and my heart race.
I shook my head and cleared my mind of that memory. I moved through the pictures we had taken at the high school, from the formal prom picture to our kiss under the stars. The tears running down my face were collecting on the picture of our kiss, taken by his big brother. I turned away from the picture back to the door. I looked around, seeing everything in my head. The wild party with just me and him, when she showed up and took him away, my never-ending heartbreak. I screamed. All this pain was too much for my body to handle. I dropped to my side in pain, still screaming.
I racked my brain, trying to think of a way to get my heart to stop hurting. I looked at what was laying next to my hand. I felt the connection erupt in my head, and I grabbed it and closed my eyes. I ran my finger across the sharp edge of the razor I had used already. I heard a car door slam from outside, but didn’t pay any attention to it. I raised my hand, turning onto my back. I writhed in pain still, but I was silent while I said my last goodbyes internally.
I’ll miss you Mom and Dad.
I’ll miss you Rachel, thanks for being with me always.
I’ll miss you Jonas family, you were my second family.
I’ll miss you Kevin, my almost big brother.
I’ll miss you Joseph, my monkey boy.
I’ll miss you Frankie, the little brother I’d wanted.
I paused before I continued. I couldn’t say his name, no matter how hard I tried. I thought of his perfect brown eyes, always warm and comforting. His lips perfectly shaped and pulled back into a smile. Then my mind moved to the girl who stole him from me. The scene played in my head once again and the heartbreak was unbearable. I threw my arm down onto my chest, the razor sticking out.
I screamed once again and heard my door slam open. I gasped for air, my lungs and heart throbbing. My eyes were still closed and they burst open, wide with fear. I looked at my door, now open, and deciphered who was watching me die.
I kept gasping for air and watched the intruder walk over to me. He came into view and my heart started racing. I could feel the blood leaving my body, and he dropped on his knees and slowly pulled me into his arms.
“Shh. It’s gonna be okay.” He whispered. I stared at him, my eyes full of doubt, wonder and fear. I didn’t believe I was still alive. There was no way he would be here, holding me like he used to. I had to be dead already. I kept struggling to breathe and tried to figure out why he was here.
“Nicky?” I gasped. He looked down at me, his eyes comforting.
“Shh. Bella, it’s gonna be okay. I won’t hurt you.” He whispered.
“What-“ I started. I was cut off by Nick putting his fingers on my lips.
“Stop. The ambulance is almost here. You’ll be fine.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I looked forward, avoiding his eyes. I realized how tired I felt. All this crying and screaming had left me hurt and exhausted. I looked back up at Nick, my eyes struggling to stay open. He nodded.
“It’s okay, sleep. You’ll need it to recover. I love you.” I heard his voice fade away with each word as my eyes closed and I fell asleep.