Post by Kitkat. on Aug 19, 2010 10:13:53 GMT -5
“Apologise!” He demanded, while she sobbed.
Faith lay, curled up on the once pristine white sheet. She wasn’t sweet, innocent, young, or even clueless. The sheet wasn’t pristine any more, or even clean. Instead, it was stained with fresh blood, with only a halo of her pale blonde hair looking even vaguely different to the scarlet. Even Carson could smell the fear that had almost woven itself in to the cheap fabric. For all his ignorance, his drunken, angry presence could pick that up as easily as Faith could smell the sickly aura of alcohol that surrounded him. Neither of them apologised. She was going to die there. Alone in soberness, sanity. And peace. There was peace there too. Lingering at the back of her mind. Spreading from the wounds, numbing all memory of her. Who she used to be, who Carson used to be, who they were now. That was all gone. All there was now was blood, numbness, and the tiny spark that lingered in her green-brown eyes, that used to dance. Even now they danced, but it was a new dance. The tears that were holding them open were making them dance. Forcing them, pricking them with salty pain.
"Please." She rasped, almost inaudibly, holding blood-stained hands to the smallest hole in her dress. The one the blood was flowing from. Carson didn't care, he turned his back on her as her final breaths came in rattling gasps and sighs. He was too drunk to care. Too drunk to know.
Many people had told her to leave him, but Carson was more than just a lover to her. He’d been her best friend while they were growing up, a shoulder to cry on while she mourned her latest affair, somebody who’d saved her when she was in need. Not anymore. Faith couldn’t accept the growing blood stains that snaked out of her. She couldn’t be dying. No. If it was somebody else who had shot her, Carson would come rushing in, and cradle her in his arms while help came. Nobody would save her this time. Nobody could, even if they had all the equipment they had in the high-tech hospitals in Europia.
She saw herself, a tiny pale toddler, and the lanky, dark boy that was Carson. The skinny child and the curly haired boy. The wiry teen, and the muscled young man. The young lady and her lover. The wife and the man. Finally, the victim and the murderer.
Nobody had ever told them to stay away from each other, they had always seemed like the best of friends, despite their differences in age. People had congratulated them at the wedding, it was rare that you got such a happy couple in the poverty-stricken Aifricka.
I hope you liked it, because I want to continue it... sometime.
Faith lay, curled up on the once pristine white sheet. She wasn’t sweet, innocent, young, or even clueless. The sheet wasn’t pristine any more, or even clean. Instead, it was stained with fresh blood, with only a halo of her pale blonde hair looking even vaguely different to the scarlet. Even Carson could smell the fear that had almost woven itself in to the cheap fabric. For all his ignorance, his drunken, angry presence could pick that up as easily as Faith could smell the sickly aura of alcohol that surrounded him. Neither of them apologised. She was going to die there. Alone in soberness, sanity. And peace. There was peace there too. Lingering at the back of her mind. Spreading from the wounds, numbing all memory of her. Who she used to be, who Carson used to be, who they were now. That was all gone. All there was now was blood, numbness, and the tiny spark that lingered in her green-brown eyes, that used to dance. Even now they danced, but it was a new dance. The tears that were holding them open were making them dance. Forcing them, pricking them with salty pain.
"Please." She rasped, almost inaudibly, holding blood-stained hands to the smallest hole in her dress. The one the blood was flowing from. Carson didn't care, he turned his back on her as her final breaths came in rattling gasps and sighs. He was too drunk to care. Too drunk to know.
Many people had told her to leave him, but Carson was more than just a lover to her. He’d been her best friend while they were growing up, a shoulder to cry on while she mourned her latest affair, somebody who’d saved her when she was in need. Not anymore. Faith couldn’t accept the growing blood stains that snaked out of her. She couldn’t be dying. No. If it was somebody else who had shot her, Carson would come rushing in, and cradle her in his arms while help came. Nobody would save her this time. Nobody could, even if they had all the equipment they had in the high-tech hospitals in Europia.
She saw herself, a tiny pale toddler, and the lanky, dark boy that was Carson. The skinny child and the curly haired boy. The wiry teen, and the muscled young man. The young lady and her lover. The wife and the man. Finally, the victim and the murderer.
Nobody had ever told them to stay away from each other, they had always seemed like the best of friends, despite their differences in age. People had congratulated them at the wedding, it was rare that you got such a happy couple in the poverty-stricken Aifricka.
I hope you liked it, because I want to continue it... sometime.
