Post by Lord Greevon on Aug 30, 2011 23:05:04 GMT -5
I hate you. SMASH... I hate you... SMASH. I hate you. I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you! Blood clings to the walls as it dries, some of it on my face. I lick my lower lip, something primal inside me is satisfied with the abhorrent flavor. My arms are weak. My legs are exhausted. I've been doing quite a workout. I feel just so very tired. All my life, but especially these past months, I've felt tired. Tired of all the unjustices in the world. Tired of my friends, tired of my family, tired of the person I loved. No, not loved. Love. I still love her, even now with her beautiful hair soaked and dripping red. Her perfect smile, or at least in my mind perfect. Her delicate hands, unmangled sat motionlessly to her side. I couldn't ever hurt such beautiful hands, not the ones that held me and made me feel safe. I toss the bat aside, the metal dented and stained. I sit on the pink sheets of her bed. I remember when we got into an argument over them. I was supposed to buy sheets since I ruined her old ones by bursting an ink pen on them while doing homework. "Whatever you do, just don't buy pink." Of course, with a setup like that, I just had to buy pink. In the end, it made no difference to either of us, we still had plenty of fun "studying" on those sheets while her parents were at work, pink or no pink.
The expression she had is still there. Captured very nicely in time, I suppose she died quickly. That expression of betrayal, wondering why her beloved man could ever do something so cruel. I had doubts as the first swing made contact, but the doubts shattered and melted away as soon as I heard the satisfying crunch. As soon as i heard that wonderful sound, I knew this was something I had to do. I wanted to hear that sound more. I kept hitting and hitting, but eventually it faded from a hard cracking and crunching to a dull thumping sound as the flesh softened, bones splintering, and my arms tired. I'll miss her. I love that girl so much. She sometimes worried about me. She worried that I would leave her because of her past. She would cry on my shoulder for hours saying that she didn't want to lose me because of her stupid mistakes. Of course I could never have broken up with her. I loved her far too much, I would always tell her "Honey, what's done is done. I could never hurt you like that even if I tried." And I wasn't lying. It bothered me very much to know the kinds of things she did with other guys, I admit I had been around a bit, but she was just too much. What's done is done, though. I always think that phrase to myself and I feel better. She was different now, she wouldn't do those things with other people anymore, she was loyal to me. She loved me.
As I walk out the door, I feel I've made a terrible mistake. What kind of monster am I? The person I love... I killed her? Yes, I killed her. I'll never see that smile again, I won't be able to smell her hair walking down the school hallways again. I won't be able to finish the art project we had started together. A tear rolls down my face, and I feel like I'm about to lose it again. All the mixed emotions swell up into my chest and I am about to let it out, but... suddenly I feel better. I walk home happy, satisfied. After all, what's done is done.
The expression she had is still there. Captured very nicely in time, I suppose she died quickly. That expression of betrayal, wondering why her beloved man could ever do something so cruel. I had doubts as the first swing made contact, but the doubts shattered and melted away as soon as I heard the satisfying crunch. As soon as i heard that wonderful sound, I knew this was something I had to do. I wanted to hear that sound more. I kept hitting and hitting, but eventually it faded from a hard cracking and crunching to a dull thumping sound as the flesh softened, bones splintering, and my arms tired. I'll miss her. I love that girl so much. She sometimes worried about me. She worried that I would leave her because of her past. She would cry on my shoulder for hours saying that she didn't want to lose me because of her stupid mistakes. Of course I could never have broken up with her. I loved her far too much, I would always tell her "Honey, what's done is done. I could never hurt you like that even if I tried." And I wasn't lying. It bothered me very much to know the kinds of things she did with other guys, I admit I had been around a bit, but she was just too much. What's done is done, though. I always think that phrase to myself and I feel better. She was different now, she wouldn't do those things with other people anymore, she was loyal to me. She loved me.
As I walk out the door, I feel I've made a terrible mistake. What kind of monster am I? The person I love... I killed her? Yes, I killed her. I'll never see that smile again, I won't be able to smell her hair walking down the school hallways again. I won't be able to finish the art project we had started together. A tear rolls down my face, and I feel like I'm about to lose it again. All the mixed emotions swell up into my chest and I am about to let it out, but... suddenly I feel better. I walk home happy, satisfied. After all, what's done is done.