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An Excerpt created by Twi and Saphire (2nd Draft)
Note from the writers:
"We accept constructive criticism, but will not tolerate hate speech. You will be ignored real ******** quick. Remember that this is just a draft we chose to share. Thank you smile "
~Saph & Twi
The content contained herein is a work of fiction. Any relation to persons, places, and/or events are solely coincidental.
TRIGGER WARNING: This excerpt contains content that may evoke adverse reaction. Viewer discretion advised.
The child looked out at the starry black sky, looking for answers.
It seemed even darker than usual that night, and the child wondered if she were just imagining it to be so. She lay back on the soft green grass of the park and pondered over the events that had transpired earlier. Her thoughts made her lost, tossing and tumbling around one another. The darkness grew and life slipped subtly by.
Nothing seemed important anymore. She didn't want to leave this spot she was in, didn't want to deal with the rest of her world. It didn't seem to make sense any longer. She wanted to be alone, and withstanding it already seemed that way. Especially because of what happened when the sun was out.
The more time went by, the more a thought grew. Will the sun ever rise again, and will I be there to see it?
"Why me?" Her voice was tiny, soft. A wisp in the air. It seemed like only bad things came her way. Just when things were getting better...,she thought. The wind started to pick up, though she didn't move. In fact, she had no intention of going back home. She unzipped and pulled off her jacket, putting it beside her. Her mind became consumed with all the trouble that had come her way, all the bad things that had happened in her life, leading her to this point. Slowly, she reached in her jacket and out appeared a small, but sharp, little knife.
"I am never going home."
Carefully she pulled herself into a sitting position, her back up, her legs tucked beneath her. Voices began to talk over one another in her head. No one cares... No one would miss me...I'd be forgotten fairly quickly.... I can't take do this anymore... I just want to go to sleep. I'm so tired... I'm just so tired... This is it. Let me rest- Her breaths were coming out in heaves, her vision blurred by tears. She tightened her grip on the small knife, and swiftly moved it toward her left wrist.
In quick motions she sawed at her wrists, hacked them, mutilated them until you could no longer see any skin. Bone & blood were visible within a matter of minutes. Then she laid back on that fresh green grass, gushing. A star winked at her, and she smiled.
The next day she was found by a man whom played a part in damaging her.
He had come looking for her to talk things out. After first laying eyes on her bloodied wrists, her vacant eyes and paled skin, he wanted to hack up everything he had ever eaten. He regretted everything. Ever single thing. As he knelt beside her, weeping into her dress, he wished replace himself with her, giver her his life. He would never see her full lips, feel her heart beat, or be able to listen to her soft as linen voice, ever again. He cried out as the EMTs wrestled him away. "She didn't deserve this! It's my fault," he yelled over and over. Her family had arrived by then, a few close friends were running toward the scene, and they all watched as her body was bagged and put into the back of an ambulance.
Some were stunned into silence, some seemed confused. All seemed to be in the being stage of grievance.
They all knew it. The man believed that she was a few grasps away from life, but they all knew. He yelled for them to take out of that bag, and other obscenities until he was forced to go home. He had gone straight to lock himself in his room.
He paced, frantic.My fault! She did this because of me! He through a cup holding pencils at his bedroom door. He thought of going with her, of taking himself to the endless slumber, but quickly dismissed it. He couldn't do it, too gutless, too bound to his Lord. Above all, he wouldn't let her down. He was feeling manic and didn't know what to do. Out of seemingly nowhere he was running to his beside dresser and yanking it open. He knew what he could do.
A week later, he was put in a mental institution across town. He was glad they put him in there. He felt like he belonged, although, a piece of him had always felt like it was missing. He felt as if someone belonged with him. He thought of the child again. He tried not to think of her. He would hit himself on the side of the head, trying to rid thoughts of her. His soul was forever aware that they should have been together, and that he should have treated her morally. He always told himself that if she came back, he would. He could not take back the pain he caused her, the anguish, and it was not enough to dream of doing so.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He wasn't allowed to have a phone but had somehow snuck one in. He used it then to phone her parents. He asked for photos of her. The mother had been the one to answer. She wanted to know why.
He responded, "If I can not feel her, be with her, I want memories of her. Please. Just one photo at least."
There was a long silence. Then the mother finally spoke. "If you wanted to undo your burden you should have done it while she was here." The line clicked dead. A feeling of dread settled upon him as he slowly dropped the phone from his face.
He laid on his bed, and could think of nothing but her. She was swallowing his whole self, .couldn't think of being about anything but her. She really was gone, forever. Her mother was right and he knew it. He had deserved that too.
He would weep nonstop. He knew this would go on for the rest of his days, and that only one way to stop the pain was to see her. He did not care how, but he had to.
All the things that had stopped him before didn't matter now. It would be worth it. To see her, feel her, be touched by that voice. He smiled to himself at the new excitement he felt. He got up and went to the kitchen of the Institute. He looked until he found a knife. As his arm lifted, the knife gleamed against the fluorescent overhead lights. He felt euphoric. He couldn't wait any longer. "Here I come. I promise to find you."
Then the knife met his heart. He jolted and fell to his knees in pain, then pictured her and smiled. His body soon went slack, and he fell to the ground, knife in his chest. Smile on his face.
He had made front page news in a matter of four days. On the cover was a photo of him before he had met the child. The cause of his suicide was still unknown, a comment from his therapist implied there were no warning signs or leads as to why he had done this. The comment further went that he had mostly spoke about his father, specifically about a mini truck they would pretend to fix together.
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