Physical pain was the only way she endure to vent. Watching the thick, scarlet liquid drop to the ground fulfilled the undying thirst to pressure herself; punish herself. The pleasure of cutting would not last long, she had the need to do it over and over again.
They’d say she was good at something, leaving her with a pure smile. Good at something. What a wonderful thought. She’d lick her lips in satisfaction from her not-so-amazing feat. Her pride, soon died off, as such things always do. Watching her slowly dissolve into pain and nothingness was painful, but he could do nothing.
It was torture, almost. Telling her she was talented, then suddenly moving on to somebody else, exclaiming their greatness. And making sure she heard too. It was a murderer of the soul, if he could say. But with her soul... there was nothing left to murder. It was all gone. An empty, windy hole of nothing inside her body. He’d seen the fleshy, pink scars on her wrists but passed them by as if it were a staple on the human body. Perfectly normal to slowly kill yourself; and others, without notice of emotion.
She was built off of raw emotion, slowly shaped and tossed around; sanded by troubles to become a statue. A crying statue. All the emotions died off, except for depression, like a blue cape weighing her down slowly till her body lay flat on the ground, then trampled on by others.
When she died, he felt the need to go to her funeral. Of course, there was chatter and everybody seemed to forget that they were mourning such a young and wasted body, and only the fact that Nick Jonas had showed up. The Nick Jonas. Famous rock star. It angered him; that only some people came out in the bitter rain and snow just to gaze at him from afar. They whispered. How cute he looks with his cheeks red from the blistering wind. How his curly hair made him stick out from the crowd.
"Can’t you all just shut up!" He’d yelled in a sudden fit of anger, throwing the single orchid he’d been holding on the ground and running to her body. Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he put the stepped on orchid in her pale and cold hands, slowly shutting the coffin.
Nick... Nick... Nick...That constant ringing in his ears, as he looked up at the sky. The heavy, gray clouds parted slightly, almost as if reacting to his will. She was bearing her soul for him, attempting to make this nightmare better. A light pressure on his lips, the smell of charcoal and lemon peels drifted. Her scent. That was her scent. Licking his lips, the taste of sin and chocolate tempted his tongue and his breath seemed to be lost. Thanks. The sugary sweet voice bounced around his head.
Almost as if she was watching him. Thanking him for actually showing up for a purpose. Her scent, her lips... the ones he had dared to taste but never had the guts. It all killed him on the inside. But she wouldn’t want him like this. She’d want him to live his life to the fullest.
To live her life. To achieve her dreams. To answer her prayers.
To make her complete.
----No comment on how I made this. :]
