|
|
|
Warning: contains dark themes... such as attemptive suicide....
enjoy! I'm kind of in a sad mood today... but I guess writing this made me realize how lucky I was... :] -------------------------------- I sit, I can feel the rain drops hitting my face, it was cold. You lay there, gun in your hand, preparing for something, I want to ask you why, but you wouldn't hear me, you blocked out your hearing so no one could convince you. Your eyes are closed, your body is numb. The gun in your hand shines in the moonlight, I can see you from far away, your in the middle of the football field, I'm on the bleachers. It's raining, and you stand there, clad in a t-shirt and jeans. Your converse are muddy, and I can't stop staring. I feel the familiar sting of salt in my tears and I can't help but let a tear run down my face. You made me watch, you said I had too, and if I didn't you would have a friend do it for you. I don't know what friend would help you commit suicide, who would want to blow your brains out? Your dark hair is in your blue eyes, your body appears to be shaking even though your breathing is calm. I see your eyes open, just barely, to check if I'm there. You smile in satisfaction, seeing that your best friend is there. And you close your eyes again.
I stand up, tears threatening to fall as I run out of the bleachers, the cold metal steps echo loudly across the stadium as I race down. You can't hear me, your hearing is gone for another five minutes. I can tell the numbness is going away, your shaking more then you were before, you can feel the ice cold metal in your hand. Your getting ready, but you don't want to. I can see it, as the gears in your brain tick. I'm on the field, sprinting towards the middle line, your finger grazes the trigger. "TREVOR!" I yell, you knew that hearing my voice would cause you to stop, it would cause you to turn around and not do this, so you made me promise to stay quiet. Your eyes open, you see me running towards you, my light blond hair trailing behind me. I stop in front of you, my breathing heavy as I look at your eyes, they are red from crying so much. I move my hand slowly over to your hand that holds then gun, I grasp your hand, pulling your finger off the trigger. My eyes stay on yours the whole time, they are closed once again. Your arm is free to movement as I pull it down to your side, I take the gun out of her hand and remove the magazine, throwing it behind me, the gun going on the opposite side of the field.
You whisper my name, "Emily..." and your eyes open, you can see the relief in my eyes. There are tears streaming down my now red cheeks. Cold wind bites at my cheeks. You look at me, moving in closer. I gasp as I feel your lips touch mine, it was short, it was simple. There was no french, nothing hot and messy. Just the touch of the lips. I could feel my heart beat speed up, you pulled away. "...Trevor..." I whispered, it was barely audible, you smile slightly, and I just run into your arms. Your still hear, your not pale as a ghost, your not on the field with your brains splattered everywhere.
Your here...
and I guess that's all the matters.
Intoxicated Galaxies · Wed Jun 09, 2010 @ 07:18pm · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|