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Hi, my name is Peggs
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 | She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not |
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 4.94 with 17 vote(s)
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| Created: 2010-02-16 06:02:21 |
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So. Rina's fault. Not overly lovey-dovey. So, sorry. Kind of depressing. At least, that was my aim. It's rushed and it's rubbish. So. Comment harshly, please. Even though I know you won't. Horrible, you lot are. But I love you. So. Yeah. Rina's Weekly Writing Thing. Love week. Oh. Yay. Love...
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“I can't help you fix yourself.” Papa Roach – Scars.
“Please don't do this.” She clung to my hand as she begged, tugging me back toward herself as I struggled to fight off her grip. I had mapped it all out in my head. Every little detail had been considered thoroughly and sorted until it was packed so neatly in my mind that it left no room for me to say the wrong thing. But it never works out that way. I was dealing with emotions, my own and hers, and even knowing it was for all of the right reasons did little to help. It wasn't worth it, but could I seriously be so cold hearted as to leave her the way she was? “Please, God, Lena, please... don't do this! I need you!”
Blinding hot tears threatened to burn trails of silver down my face as I struggled to keep from spinning to face her. She was beyond hysterical, her hands gripping my wrist as tears of her own rolled down her cheeks and her pleadings intensified. I knew, however cold my heart was, that I couldn't handle that much more of this. It was cruel. To her, but to me as well. I had started this, stumbled into this knowing full well we should never have been more than friends, and now I was ending it. It was heartless of me, to some extent, but I truly wanted it to work. I had never wanted anything more in my life.
“Lena, please!” She whimpered, her chewed nails now biting into my flesh. I winced, feeling my skin breaking beneath her grasp. It was a painful feeling, but one I knew I could handle. For the moment. I didn't fancy pain. In fact, I went almost entirely out of my way to avoid it. But now, with her nails digging into my skin, I felt a strange flood of relief. It was wrong, the relief that washed away the guilt, but I enjoyed it. I closed my eyes against the tears and concentrated on the burn in my wrist, feeling her chewed nails dig deeper with every second. “Don't do this to me. Lena. Don't, don't, don't.”
I wanted to tell her that I heard her the first time, but I was almost giddy now. The pain was doing amazing things, leaving me breathless and catapulting the tears to some far away place. I was almost drunk on the pain by this time, this moment, as she continued to beg and plead. Her nails never once let up on my flesh, despite the fact I was certain her fingers were aching from holding down the constant pressure. I was certain that, sometime soon, she would release her grip and send me hurtling toward reality. Where the guilt could consume me once more.
“Lena, you can't do this.” She whispered, her voice hoarse from begging and pleading, sometimes screaming, for at least the previous hour and a half. It was probably longer, but I had managed to shut out most of it. As hard as it was, I knew I had no other choice. Without warning, the pain in my wrist became a dull ache and her hands released me. She took a step back as I turned to face her. She looked defeated. Her eyes were empty, dead, husks of what they had previously been. Her lips were set in a firm line as she stared at me. “I'll kill myself if you do this, Lena. I swear to God, I'll kill myself.”
xxx
I didn't kill myself. I never had the chance. Upon hearing my declaration, Lena stopped fighting. She stayed. All night, promising she'd never leave me. We went back to the way we used to be. Mostly, anyhow. Lena was no longer the girl I'd so desperately desired. If anything, she seemed to have died the moment she promised she wouldn't leave. I wasn't like her. Not even slightly. I couldn't save her. Not if it meant I had to let her go. I was selfish, terribly selfish, and although I did feel guilty, I knew I couldn't live without her. And she was still alive. Kind off. She was still breathing, at least.
“Honestly, Jay, you could at least pick up your clothes.” Lena's voice, although an attempt at sounding bright, seemed to nip at my heart rather painfully. She met my gaze as I turned to look at her from where I sat, my fingers pressed against my temples as I tried to sort out what I wanted my painting to look like. It was hard. Nothing ever turned out the way you planned. But I had Lena. Nothing else mattered. Not to me. She lifted a brow slowly as she waited, her eyes swivelling between my discarded clothing and myself. That was Lena. Even as dead as she was, or seemed to be, she cared about cleanliness and hygiene and the environment. “Jay, I swear, I won't ask again.”
Nodding, I rose from where I sat. I made certain to brush my hand against hers as I passed by, pleased to note that she no longer flinched whenever our skin met. For the first few weeks, after I made her stay, she had shied away and flinched whenever we touched. Whenever we kissed or hugged. Now, she just stiffened slightly. She didn't withdraw, as she had, she simply stiffened and barely responded. I gathered my clothes and hurried toward the laundry. Lena had left the lid to the washing machine open, powder within, and so I dumped my clothes over hers and slammed it. I pressed random buttons, hoping desperately that they were right, and returned to where I'd left her. She hadn't moved an inch.
xxx
Maybe I wasn't dead, but I felt it. It as Jay's fault, but I couldn't leave her. I knew, not positively, that she might just kill herself if I did. I couldn't live with that. I simply couldn't. Not when I knew I could stop it, keep her happy and safe. I could swing it in either direction. I could toss the ball her way, keep her happy and alive, or my way. It was her way, the way I decided to toss the ball, because there was truly no other choice. If I could've, I would never have been born. I'd have made certain never to exist, so this could never have happened. Neither of us deserved to live the way we were. Especially me. I didn't deserve this.
The blade felt heavy in my wrist as I sunk deeper into the bathtub, clutching the handle as tightly as I could. The thought had been there ever since I'd decided to say. Three months ago, when I'd moved in, on the same day I intended to end it between Jay and I. Ever since, at the back of my mind, I had wanted to relieve the moments of bliss that came in the most unexpected form. Pain. With a jerk, I sat up, coughing out a heap of bubble-flecked water that had dived up my nose. Been inhaled, technically, but dived sounded better. I lifted the blade from the water slowly, examining it. It was large. Somewhat. With a sharp edge that I'd only just re-sharpened. It had taken me a while. But, finally, it was sharp enough to slice flesh simply from brushing across it. I had planned this perfectly. Jay was out somewhere. I didn't know, didn't care. The bathroom door was locked, just in case. The water surrounding me was warm. I was dressed. And all I had to do now was to begin the first cut.
xxx
“Oh, God.” I stared stupidly at the pale, lifeless body on the hospital bed. Her lips were blue, her eyes wide and glazed. This was Lena. My precious, perfect Lena. The only girl, the only person, I had ever loved. Would ever love. And it was my fault she was here. Her arms were wrapped, she was connected to tubes, but the monitors they hooked up to were dead. Showing nothing. I inhaled sharply as I reached for her hand, winding my own slowly around it. It felt icy to touch, but I didn't care. I couldn't care. “I love you, Lena.” |
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all i do is to read your stories and drown myself to insecurities! I hate you. ~diz is me jealous~ 
"); its cool! great work!
)