~God did I have pompus ass writing in college~
Incourageable death
You’re pathetic, you’re nothing, did you honestly think you could do anything to change it? How stupid of you, you’re nothing, you’re nothing, YOU’RE NOTHING!! The words filled her mind like petals falling delicately from a decaying flower. They mocked her and chided her, pushed her further to the edge of her sanity. She already could feel her spinal cord twist and knot itself as if her brain were trying to deprive itself of oxygen. The world was caving, crashing into something that she couldn’t understand, was never sure she ever did understand in the first place and the only thing she could think about was wanting it all to end in one swift stop. Between her long, piano key like fingers there was a gun, before her, a blank canvas. Her fingers pulled tighter around the handle of the gun as her eyes shut tightly, attempting to hold back the tears that threatened to push against her eyelids and wash her face in a bath of salt and saline. The words repeated in her head, Nothing, I’m nothing! She screamed inside of her mind.
She wanted to get away, she wanted out of this travesty that seemed to have become her life. Nothing was going right, and now it seemed she’d lost the only thing that mattered to her. Her blank masterpiece stared back at her, laughing at her. At her inability to create even a drop on that vast expanse of nothingness that sat in front of her. The gun raised, ever so slightly, her hands trembling from fear as she looked at the blank canvas that lay before her. Paint was splayed about the floor, everywhere but the canvas. Her mind had snapped, and her only thoughts were of one thing. Death. That one beautiful stop that would cause all the voices, all the people that wouldn’t, or couldn’t understand her to stop. A beautiful stop, a final masterpiece. Blood spattered upon the canvas in her own beautiful voice. Her final song, her blood. The crimson tendrils of her hair circled around her face. The irony of red made her smile. “You’re nothing; you’re worthless.” The smile spread as she breathed the words over her lips. It was her mantra. She laughed hollowly as she breathed the last words, “You should just die.” She raked her hands over her face. For such a beautiful death you need a beautiful corpse, one that leaves an impression, one that’ll be remembered in the nightmares of the policemen who find you. Resting her head between her knees, she fell into tears. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die - but . . . I’m nothing, I’m worthless, I’m pathetic. Someone save me, someone, take me, please God someone take me away from this hell! The tears fell harder, her knees soaking with water as the gun came closer to her temple once more. End - it has to - the only way -
Her thoughts trailed off as her fingers squeezed tightly on the trigger, shuddering as the tension forced her to tighter her grip. A loud noise - a gunshot resounded, and her body fell to the floor. It lay still for what seemed like eternity but was only the reality of a few moments, then her body started shaking slowly in violent sobs.
“I can’t.” She whispered out. “I can’t even fucking kill myself.” It was then she felt a hand snake it’s way over the side of her body, running along it as if she were water. It followed the curve of her hip, the in curve of her side, the round shaping of her breast, until finally it rested over her face, brushing back the hair that hid her from the light.
“Not what you expected my pet?” A voice whispered lightly in her ear. It was a sensual, almost seductive voice, yet at the same time it seemed to be mocking her. She screwed her eyes tighter, her breathing ragged and raw from the exertion she had put her lungs through. “Am. . . am I dead?” She asked craning her eyes and neck just enough so that she could see his face. When he had spoken he had felt so close to her that she could feel his breath on her earlobe, but now, as she could feel the tension in her eyes, she could see nothing but a shadow.
His reply was simply a laugh. A hollow thing that carried neither pity nor comfort, then came words, “Would you like to be?” She closed her eyes and pulled her body tighter in on herself, praying for it all to stop. Too much, this is too much, I can’t take this. Leave me alone! Her mind screamed. Instead she simply turned to face him, a man who’s face was childlike, failing to hold either a crease or line from age, and his eyes were an abnormal crystalline green. His pupils were slit, like those of a cat, and they held an intensity that refused to let her look away, “Is that really what you wish to aspire to my angel?” He asked again, the cat’s eyes almost holding something like curiosity within them. She tried to steady her breathing to keep her voice from shaking when she spoke; the pieces of her spine were screaming in pane but she ignored them as she answered “Yes.”
“Is that really what you want?” His lips spread into a smile and he laughed. A deep throated thing that made her shiver inside. It was hollow, and as emotionless as his eyes, though he seemed almost suprised at her answer. “A rather pathetic end isn’t it?” His face pushed closer to hers, almost as if he were about to kiss her, and he breathed over her lips lightly warming them and giving them the illusion of moistness. His hand brushed over her jeans caressing the length of them. Spotted from paint and torn from too much wear. Pulling his hand further he brushed her lavender tank top, only to reach her stained and sticky face. He caressed it gently. “Tattered and torn.” He chided her lightly. “You’re just a broken little doll love. Something else perhaps?” Her breath pulled inward, she felt as if her breathing had stopped. He, I could, could he. . . Her mind raced with thoughts, could he really save her, take her from all of this? If it was a possibility, then she would have to take the chance.
You’re pathetic, you’re nothing, did you honestly think you could do anything to change it? How stupid of you, you’re nothing, you’re nothing, YOU’RE NOTHING!! The words filled her mind like petals falling delicately from a decaying flower. They mocked her and chided her, pushed her further to the edge of her sanity. She already could feel her spinal cord twist and knot itself as if her brain were trying to deprive itself of oxygen. The world was caving, crashing into something that she couldn’t understand, was never sure she ever did understand in the first place and the only thing she could think about was wanting it all to end in one swift stop. Between her long, piano key like fingers there was a gun, before her, a blank canvas. Her fingers pulled tighter around the handle of the gun as her eyes shut tightly, attempting to hold back the tears that threatened to push against her eyelids and wash her face in a bath of salt and saline. The words repeated in her head, Nothing, I’m nothing! She screamed inside of her mind.
She wanted to get away, she wanted out of this travesty that seemed to have become her life. Nothing was going right, and now it seemed she’d lost the only thing that mattered to her. Her blank masterpiece stared back at her, laughing at her. At her inability to create even a drop on that vast expanse of nothingness that sat in front of her. The gun raised, ever so slightly, her hands trembling from fear as she looked at the blank canvas that lay before her. Paint was splayed about the floor, everywhere but the canvas. Her mind had snapped, and her only thoughts were of one thing. Death. That one beautiful stop that would cause all the voices, all the people that wouldn’t, or couldn’t understand her to stop. A beautiful stop, a final masterpiece. Blood spattered upon the canvas in her own beautiful voice. Her final song, her blood. The crimson tendrils of her hair circled around her face. The irony of red made her smile. “You’re nothing; you’re worthless.” The smile spread as she breathed the words over her lips. It was her mantra. She laughed hollowly as she breathed the last words, “You should just die.” She raked her hands over her face. For such a beautiful death you need a beautiful corpse, one that leaves an impression, one that’ll be remembered in the nightmares of the policemen who find you. Resting her head between her knees, she fell into tears. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die - but . . . I’m nothing, I’m worthless, I’m pathetic. Someone save me, someone, take me, please God someone take me away from this hell! The tears fell harder, her knees soaking with water as the gun came closer to her temple once more. End - it has to - the only way -
Her thoughts trailed off as her fingers squeezed tightly on the trigger, shuddering as the tension forced her to tighter her grip. A loud noise - a gunshot resounded, and her body fell to the floor. It lay still for what seemed like eternity but was only the reality of a few moments, then her body started shaking slowly in violent sobs.
“I can’t.” She whispered out. “I can’t even fucking kill myself.” It was then she felt a hand snake it’s way over the side of her body, running along it as if she were water. It followed the curve of her hip, the in curve of her side, the round shaping of her breast, until finally it rested over her face, brushing back the hair that hid her from the light.
“Not what you expected my pet?” A voice whispered lightly in her ear. It was a sensual, almost seductive voice, yet at the same time it seemed to be mocking her. She screwed her eyes tighter, her breathing ragged and raw from the exertion she had put her lungs through. “Am. . . am I dead?” She asked craning her eyes and neck just enough so that she could see his face. When he had spoken he had felt so close to her that she could feel his breath on her earlobe, but now, as she could feel the tension in her eyes, she could see nothing but a shadow.
His reply was simply a laugh. A hollow thing that carried neither pity nor comfort, then came words, “Would you like to be?” She closed her eyes and pulled her body tighter in on herself, praying for it all to stop. Too much, this is too much, I can’t take this. Leave me alone! Her mind screamed. Instead she simply turned to face him, a man who’s face was childlike, failing to hold either a crease or line from age, and his eyes were an abnormal crystalline green. His pupils were slit, like those of a cat, and they held an intensity that refused to let her look away, “Is that really what you wish to aspire to my angel?” He asked again, the cat’s eyes almost holding something like curiosity within them. She tried to steady her breathing to keep her voice from shaking when she spoke; the pieces of her spine were screaming in pane but she ignored them as she answered “Yes.”
“Is that really what you want?” His lips spread into a smile and he laughed. A deep throated thing that made her shiver inside. It was hollow, and as emotionless as his eyes, though he seemed almost suprised at her answer. “A rather pathetic end isn’t it?” His face pushed closer to hers, almost as if he were about to kiss her, and he breathed over her lips lightly warming them and giving them the illusion of moistness. His hand brushed over her jeans caressing the length of them. Spotted from paint and torn from too much wear. Pulling his hand further he brushed her lavender tank top, only to reach her stained and sticky face. He caressed it gently. “Tattered and torn.” He chided her lightly. “You’re just a broken little doll love. Something else perhaps?” Her breath pulled inward, she felt as if her breathing had stopped. He, I could, could he. . . Her mind raced with thoughts, could he really save her, take her from all of this? If it was a possibility, then she would have to take the chance.