The slap came abruptly, but not as abruptly as the sharp thrusts from the blade now protruding from her stomach. The gapping wound gushed onto the grinning face of her attacker. Despite the fact that she was bleeding out onto the ground she could focus with amazing clarity. The shadow fell caressing the left side of his facing stopping short of the bridge of his nose but continuing on past his right eyebrow up into his russet hair made darker by the boat house blocking the rays of the moon from cutting through. The light that did shine onto him bounced off the metallic of the two boats docked off to the west side of the small peer glinting off his exposed teeth. Her blood cascaded in droplets across his chin, some even staining the whites of his teeth. His high cheek bones seemed to raise higher with the prominent smile as if to accentuate the satisfaction he was so obviously feeling at the moment.
The pain hit her like a thousand needles hitting the same spot at once and she involuntarily lunged forward unintentionally taking the knife deeper. Her breath caught in her throat. Her lungs refused to expand and she wasn't sure if it was from shock or she was now feeling the symptoms of her imminent death. She gasped but the air wouldn't come.
Her hands slid up to the knife stopping just short of the blade. She pressed into herself as if to feebly attempt to put pressure on the wound that was currently corked in her lower abdomen. She felt an arm placed softly onto her right shoulder blade and slid its way over to the middle of her back. Was he truly hugging her? He took the embrace deeper and she prayed that it would all be over soon.
With the flick of his wrist the knife twisted counter clockwise and she felt the pain spread to her back. Gasp after gasp of nothing, but her rusty tasting blood filled her mouth. Giving into the faint feeling pushing its way into her head she closed her eyes and rested on his chest. The heaviness took hold and her knees gave out. She could feel her body being lowered to the ground and wondered why she was no longer feeling the pain. The ground blurred and she let go.
"Shhhhh, my angel."
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Innocence - Halestorm
“Is this what you wanted? Did I make your dreams come true?”
Looking out into the dark room lit solely by the street lights seeping through the blinds she stared as the shadow cast thick lines against his face, neck and chest. The bedroom was set off by the graying of everything including the bed and the walls. He slowly put on his shirt, then his slacks. As he slipped on his socks then patent leather shoes the vile words escaped his lips like a string snaps from a whip. She took them in silence. She felt the moisture on her cheek, but couldn’t move to wipe it away. This wasn’t how she pictured it at all.
It hurt. It ripped and he was less than caring. Her gaze followed him as he strolled out of the room letting the door slam behind him, the chain from the door lock clattering off the metal frame. Scanning the room through her numb haze she found the blood stain on the sheets. It was small but in the abyss of white it became her center of attention. There it was, her one gift. It was supposed to be beautiful and special. This was just pain. She tried to breathe. She tried to move, but his weight crushed her.
No “I love yous.” No kisses. Just grinding and searing. His face became distorted with the motion. His beautiful green eyes turned gray as the lights went out. His picturesque face became a blur. One final stabbing pain and it was over. He was gone. This corner was her haven, the shag carpet uncomfortable and irritating to her exposed skin.
Nothing like she thought. Nothing like she expected. He was cold and harsh. He was robotic and callous. She was now stoic and detached.
The red consumed her. Her limbs stayed lifeless. She couldn’t escape the room. She couldn’t escape the corner. She couldn’t escape her body. It was over and so was she.
The now grayish pink metallic object dipped down across the room caught by a gust of wind through the door. The blonde princess her magenta gown and crown glittering as she ascends the long purple staircase. The letters stuck out like a flashing sign. Happy Birthday. Yes, she thought, welcome to thirteen.
Looking out into the dark room lit solely by the street lights seeping through the blinds she stared as the shadow cast thick lines against his face, neck and chest. The bedroom was set off by the graying of everything including the bed and the walls. He slowly put on his shirt, then his slacks. As he slipped on his socks then patent leather shoes the vile words escaped his lips like a string snaps from a whip. She took them in silence. She felt the moisture on her cheek, but couldn’t move to wipe it away. This wasn’t how she pictured it at all.
It hurt. It ripped and he was less than caring. Her gaze followed him as he strolled out of the room letting the door slam behind him, the chain from the door lock clattering off the metal frame. Scanning the room through her numb haze she found the blood stain on the sheets. It was small but in the abyss of white it became her center of attention. There it was, her one gift. It was supposed to be beautiful and special. This was just pain. She tried to breathe. She tried to move, but his weight crushed her.
No “I love yous.” No kisses. Just grinding and searing. His face became distorted with the motion. His beautiful green eyes turned gray as the lights went out. His picturesque face became a blur. One final stabbing pain and it was over. He was gone. This corner was her haven, the shag carpet uncomfortable and irritating to her exposed skin.
Nothing like she thought. Nothing like she expected. He was cold and harsh. He was robotic and callous. She was now stoic and detached.
The red consumed her. Her limbs stayed lifeless. She couldn’t escape the room. She couldn’t escape the corner. She couldn’t escape her body. It was over and so was she.
The now grayish pink metallic object dipped down across the room caught by a gust of wind through the door. The blonde princess her magenta gown and crown glittering as she ascends the long purple staircase. The letters stuck out like a flashing sign. Happy Birthday. Yes, she thought, welcome to thirteen.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Hate Me - Blue October
Cigarette in hand, she closed the trunk as she stared up at the long line of roach infested apartments. This would be the last time she would stare out into the night from this long line of old and decrepit cars - cars that seemed to reflect their owners - using the lights from the numerous lamps that illuminated the windows along the brick facade as her mental springboard. She had made a choice and there was no turning back.
He would cry. He would blame himself. Was he not good enough? Attractive enough? Maybe if he had worked out or dieted. Maybe if he had bought her more flowers or wrote her more love notes. Maybe if he had stayed that cute little high schooler she had fallen in love with.
She couldn't let that guilt dissuade her. She knew it was time to move on. She kept telling herself she wasn't in love anymore, that she may never have been and despite that she knew otherwise she had to hold on to that self imposed little white lie in order to walk away now. It was the right thing to do.
Her heart wasn't open. It never would be. Not enough to equal the love that he had for her. He deserved better. He deserved someone who wasn't damaged from a very short lifetime of rejection. She couldn't trust or let anyone in. He was still innocent enough. One heartbreak would heal. The years of heartbreak left her heart with a scar so rock hard she couldn't tell if it was even beating anymore. After a few years, when he had found someone who was just as passionate and loyal as him - everything he didn't have with her - he would realize just how wrong she was for him. Would he forgive her? Time would tell and it didn't really matter anyway. She was leaving.
The usually jam packed highway was nothing but open road now. Few lights passed by and those that did went unnoticed. She just coasted along blinded by her self-condemnation. She didn't have the strength to wipe the tears away so they just streamed down her face and quickly became sticky streaks punctuated by her red nose. She could smell the salt. Slightly opening her mouth with one sob after another, she could taste it too. This was it - it was over.
Time to move on, for both of them. Let him be who he deserves to be and loved the way he deserves to be loved. Let her deal with whatever comes - alone - if that is what fate intended.
He would cry. He would blame himself. Was he not good enough? Attractive enough? Maybe if he had worked out or dieted. Maybe if he had bought her more flowers or wrote her more love notes. Maybe if he had stayed that cute little high schooler she had fallen in love with.
She couldn't let that guilt dissuade her. She knew it was time to move on. She kept telling herself she wasn't in love anymore, that she may never have been and despite that she knew otherwise she had to hold on to that self imposed little white lie in order to walk away now. It was the right thing to do.
Her heart wasn't open. It never would be. Not enough to equal the love that he had for her. He deserved better. He deserved someone who wasn't damaged from a very short lifetime of rejection. She couldn't trust or let anyone in. He was still innocent enough. One heartbreak would heal. The years of heartbreak left her heart with a scar so rock hard she couldn't tell if it was even beating anymore. After a few years, when he had found someone who was just as passionate and loyal as him - everything he didn't have with her - he would realize just how wrong she was for him. Would he forgive her? Time would tell and it didn't really matter anyway. She was leaving.
The usually jam packed highway was nothing but open road now. Few lights passed by and those that did went unnoticed. She just coasted along blinded by her self-condemnation. She didn't have the strength to wipe the tears away so they just streamed down her face and quickly became sticky streaks punctuated by her red nose. She could smell the salt. Slightly opening her mouth with one sob after another, she could taste it too. This was it - it was over.
Time to move on, for both of them. Let him be who he deserves to be and loved the way he deserves to be loved. Let her deal with whatever comes - alone - if that is what fate intended.
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