Ten.
Tone for the story: Regret, worry, concern. (Warning: Possibly triggering; suicidal scene reads in this story.)
To date, my favorite one. Makes me cry with sadness and happiness at the same time.
She had vented in ten minutes' time, and was breathing heavily on ground zero of her explosion. No longer did she feel that outrage, but instead she was detached. Instead of acting, she stood motionless and reflected.
She had been going on about how he was so blind... yet she realized she had been just as in the dark. She hadn't gone to that room to have war with him. What she had went in there for was to be supportive. Instead, she'd had done to him just what she did to the room. She destroyed any sort of thing between them, all because of her frustration. She thought back to what he had kept yelling at her.
"Why don't you just go die then?" He had said that more than once.
It was unfortunate for him that she'd be just the type to do that... to prove her point, no matter what the cost.
He was sitting against the wall, knees against his chest. He had long since simmered into a state of calmness, but his mind was still racing with what had just occurred. He didn't think she came into the room just to fight him. Why did he attack her the way he did? What did she do to deserve that outburst?
Once again, another bought of his had cost him dearly. He was thinking of her when she approached... maybe her sudden approach startled him, so he replied with anger? Was it even anger? Maybe he had been vexed.
No.
He realized the simple fact of the whole thing: He wanted her to be there for him, and yet didn't know how to handle being the one being helped.
He, too, was also reflecting on one thing she had said.
"You oughta choke on 'em. Maybe you'll learn something!"
And he had learned something. Rising to his feet, he started for the room, wording his regrets in his mind.
The room was a disaster when he walked in, and it unsettled him. He instantly pushed out the idea that she was taken away again, but the worse scenario quickly became true. She was angry; she had done it herself.
And knowing her, she took some of the things he said literally. Including the damned statement he had never meant to ever say.
He fled the room in a panic, trying to think of where she'd go to perform this morbid ceremony. He prayed she would come to her senses and understand.
She stood at the highest point of the structure, ignoring its sickening wobble. She was horrified of heights, yet stared down as if the ground were at the bottoms of her feet. Her stomach had dropped away, but her body was too cold for her to care.
"You died to me," she whispered to no one. "And now, allow me to die to you."
Holding onto a crumbling steeple, she let her left foot come off the precarious ceiling. Shingles disintegrated as she readjusted herself, and she lingered, off-balance, dangerously above the unforgiving ground below. She let weight shift forward some more, her body half hanging above the open air. Her hair shielded her face, hiding the frightened and pained tears dwelling in the corners of her eyes.
He'd looked everywhere for her, his search turning up empty thus far. He shuddered with frightened anticipation when he stood still. As he looked out the window, he saw some of the falling shingles and threw up in the back of his mouth a bit at what this meant.
"God no," he begged no one. "Not that way..."
He found his way to the roof, seeing her leaning forward over nothing. The sight deeply disturbed him, how placid she looked as she stared death in the face. But she couldn't possibly want that. Her grip on the steeple was slipping, and the weakened structure was bending to break. He got onto the roof, but the swaying made him too afraid to go a single step towards her.
Instead, he called to her. "Get back from there."
She wouldn't answer.
"Come back from there," he tried again. "Please come back. You'll get hurt."
Again, nothing. She leaned some more.
"Talk to me," he instructed.
"What do you care?" She finally asked, a robotic voice commencing.
"I care..." He found himself curling up and wincing when the steeple emitted a horrid wail of weakness. "I care a lot. Don't you know that?"
"You don't."
"I do," he insisted. "Why else would I have come all the way up here? Why else would I have even bothered getting myself into this whole situation in the first place? Don't you see it? I do. I do care." He paused. "Maybe more than you'll ever know."
She didn't reply. The steeple was bending more towards a breaking angle. It was softly moaning its agonizing bend relentlessly. The shingles beneath her feet were breaking away. He was quivering with a hopeless sense of fear. There was nothing he could do to pull her back from the edge, it seemed. He struggled to maintain his own balance, his feet glued to the crumbling roof. His arm reached out desperately as if it could touch her, but yards kept them apart.
"Don't you leave me," he pleaded. "I... need you. To stay with me." He had to pause; his fear of her loss made him teary-eyed. "So we can get through this together."
Her head turned in his direction, wordlessly.
"Don't make me go this alone," his shuddering voice spoke.
The steeple began to crack.
"I can't go this alone."
Her body lurched forward violently, but she made no noise.
"I need you to help me."
The steeple snapped, having had enough. She lunged forward and cried out softly. For a split second, time was still.
It was that split second that moved him from his spot to her.
He barely caught her shoulder, pulling her back with all the strength he could. He caught her as they both fell backwards, taking the brunt of the fall. The pain was irrelevant; he didn't notice it. He was holding onto her, trying to calm her wild shivering.
He didn't know she was trying to settle his crying. He was shaking just as bad as she was.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But I need you. You can't leave me yet."
She replied delicately, "I can't support someone who doesn't want it."
He asked timidly, "But can you support someone who needs it?"
Suddenly, that decaying roof felt so sturdy.
To date, my favorite one. Makes me cry with sadness and happiness at the same time.
She had vented in ten minutes' time, and was breathing heavily on ground zero of her explosion. No longer did she feel that outrage, but instead she was detached. Instead of acting, she stood motionless and reflected.
She had been going on about how he was so blind... yet she realized she had been just as in the dark. She hadn't gone to that room to have war with him. What she had went in there for was to be supportive. Instead, she'd had done to him just what she did to the room. She destroyed any sort of thing between them, all because of her frustration. She thought back to what he had kept yelling at her.
"Why don't you just go die then?" He had said that more than once.
It was unfortunate for him that she'd be just the type to do that... to prove her point, no matter what the cost.
He was sitting against the wall, knees against his chest. He had long since simmered into a state of calmness, but his mind was still racing with what had just occurred. He didn't think she came into the room just to fight him. Why did he attack her the way he did? What did she do to deserve that outburst?
Once again, another bought of his had cost him dearly. He was thinking of her when she approached... maybe her sudden approach startled him, so he replied with anger? Was it even anger? Maybe he had been vexed.
No.
He realized the simple fact of the whole thing: He wanted her to be there for him, and yet didn't know how to handle being the one being helped.
He, too, was also reflecting on one thing she had said.
"You oughta choke on 'em. Maybe you'll learn something!"
And he had learned something. Rising to his feet, he started for the room, wording his regrets in his mind.
The room was a disaster when he walked in, and it unsettled him. He instantly pushed out the idea that she was taken away again, but the worse scenario quickly became true. She was angry; she had done it herself.
And knowing her, she took some of the things he said literally. Including the damned statement he had never meant to ever say.
He fled the room in a panic, trying to think of where she'd go to perform this morbid ceremony. He prayed she would come to her senses and understand.
She stood at the highest point of the structure, ignoring its sickening wobble. She was horrified of heights, yet stared down as if the ground were at the bottoms of her feet. Her stomach had dropped away, but her body was too cold for her to care.
"You died to me," she whispered to no one. "And now, allow me to die to you."
Holding onto a crumbling steeple, she let her left foot come off the precarious ceiling. Shingles disintegrated as she readjusted herself, and she lingered, off-balance, dangerously above the unforgiving ground below. She let weight shift forward some more, her body half hanging above the open air. Her hair shielded her face, hiding the frightened and pained tears dwelling in the corners of her eyes.
He'd looked everywhere for her, his search turning up empty thus far. He shuddered with frightened anticipation when he stood still. As he looked out the window, he saw some of the falling shingles and threw up in the back of his mouth a bit at what this meant.
"God no," he begged no one. "Not that way..."
He found his way to the roof, seeing her leaning forward over nothing. The sight deeply disturbed him, how placid she looked as she stared death in the face. But she couldn't possibly want that. Her grip on the steeple was slipping, and the weakened structure was bending to break. He got onto the roof, but the swaying made him too afraid to go a single step towards her.
Instead, he called to her. "Get back from there."
She wouldn't answer.
"Come back from there," he tried again. "Please come back. You'll get hurt."
Again, nothing. She leaned some more.
"Talk to me," he instructed.
"What do you care?" She finally asked, a robotic voice commencing.
"I care..." He found himself curling up and wincing when the steeple emitted a horrid wail of weakness. "I care a lot. Don't you know that?"
"You don't."
"I do," he insisted. "Why else would I have come all the way up here? Why else would I have even bothered getting myself into this whole situation in the first place? Don't you see it? I do. I do care." He paused. "Maybe more than you'll ever know."
She didn't reply. The steeple was bending more towards a breaking angle. It was softly moaning its agonizing bend relentlessly. The shingles beneath her feet were breaking away. He was quivering with a hopeless sense of fear. There was nothing he could do to pull her back from the edge, it seemed. He struggled to maintain his own balance, his feet glued to the crumbling roof. His arm reached out desperately as if it could touch her, but yards kept them apart.
"Don't you leave me," he pleaded. "I... need you. To stay with me." He had to pause; his fear of her loss made him teary-eyed. "So we can get through this together."
Her head turned in his direction, wordlessly.
"Don't make me go this alone," his shuddering voice spoke.
The steeple began to crack.
"I can't go this alone."
Her body lurched forward violently, but she made no noise.
"I need you to help me."
The steeple snapped, having had enough. She lunged forward and cried out softly. For a split second, time was still.
It was that split second that moved him from his spot to her.
He barely caught her shoulder, pulling her back with all the strength he could. He caught her as they both fell backwards, taking the brunt of the fall. The pain was irrelevant; he didn't notice it. He was holding onto her, trying to calm her wild shivering.
He didn't know she was trying to settle his crying. He was shaking just as bad as she was.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But I need you. You can't leave me yet."
She replied delicately, "I can't support someone who doesn't want it."
He asked timidly, "But can you support someone who needs it?"
Suddenly, that decaying roof felt so sturdy.