5/10/13

He disappeared. Again

5/12/13

My hands are cold. I feel like dying.

5/15/13

No one heard my screams, my cries.

5/17/13

He came back. He told me he loved me.

5/20/13

He tried to kill me.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Based on 5/20/13:

I ran to the stairs, screaming. He followed. Tears trickled along the pores of my face, dripping off my chin. Love. This wasn't love. This was savagery. His feet clunked against the wooden floors, vibrating the ground with slow and steady bets. One...I held my breath. Two...I prayed silently. Three...A knife plunged through the wooden door.

"Monster! You're a monster!" I cried, sobbing into my shirt. The blue material soaked up the substance, weighing my tee down with water from the drops. The doorknob jiggled slightly, as if he was hesitant to slam open the door. "This is love?! You fucking liar!"

He stopped. My breath was ragged, quick paced and abnormal. I heard a loud clang of metal from the outside, spotting an item through the crack under the door. He had dropped the knife. The entry opened slightly, exposing his disheveled figure.

"Max..." His voice was laced with shock. As if he was struggling at that exact moment in time. Of course, he wasn't the one who was almost mutilated with a kitchen utensil. I was. I sniffed the air. It smelled musty, dust clouding the oxygen surrounding me. I couldn't breathe.

"G-get away from me." The wall hit my back with 'thud'. He stepped closer. I gulped down a thick glob of spit, feeling it burn as it trickled down my throat. My hands clutched onto the floor, grasping anything that would steady myself.

"Oh god.." His mouth hung low, his lips parted lightly to form an 'O' shape. Guilt surfaced across his eyes, the charcoal irises flicking to his hands. We both knew one thing. He was a monster, indeed. A muffled cry left his tongue. Turning around, he ran down the stairs. The front door slammed shut.

"I don't want too, but..." I swallowed in a ball of air. The cold breeze stabbed my esophagus, constricting my throat with a dangerously tight hold. My nostrils flared, struggling to clutch onto just one breath of air. Just one chance to tell him...

"I love you, too."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

He disappeared. No shocker there. I wanted him to come back. Yet, after hearing the truth surface from the tip of his bitter tongue, I hadn't even kept the door unlocked, whereas I usually left it open. Just for him. Only for him.

I wait for the shrill ring. The echo of the metallic scream, signaling me that he was at my doorstep. Waiting. Searching for me. There was none. I called for my mother. I realized she was dead. It was but me and the eerie house. The air was silenced. The tapping from the branches on my windows stilled. There was no one. Just me. Only me.

I tried to write in my diary again. After the last entry, I was left quite shaken. It hurts to write. It's like the very pen I use is simmering the flesh atop my palms, every word, each syllable a minuscule torture device on it's own.

But I tried. I did.

5/21/13

The house is small. Only total and me. We're watching Animal Planet together. He seems to enjoy it, barking at every feline that meows along the catchy tune of the show. He whined. I patted his petite head, watching his tail as it swiftly moved right to left.

As I'm writing this, I'm slowly making my way into the kitchen. A banana is in my reach, the yellow flashing through the corner of my eyes. I feel my pupils shift to the awaiting fruit, innocently sitting in a metal bowl across the granite tabletops.

I wish he were here. Now, I feel the tears well up in my ducts. I think of my mom. She was such a loving woman before Ella ran away. Before Jeb died. She had blamed his death on me, saying that I was a curse to our family. A mistake that should've never been bred.

But maybe I am. Just a simple curse. A complex thought, formed over the tiring idea that everyone I so dearly loved had died. A realization has struck me. Maybe, though, it is true. It would explain the deaths, the screams. Those shedded drops that never seemed to cease.

I'm a failure.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The rose crunched under my palms. I felt odd, slightly alienated against the hustle of the city streets. Of course, it must've been hard to spot me through the various colors and lights adorning the cement pavements.

"Ma'am. You know you're gonna have to pay for that flower, right?" I looked up. The lady at the counter eyed me, her pupils boring into the hand in which I had slaughtered the ever delicate flower. I could feel the blood of the floral object trickle down my wrist, the dew sliding across my bulging vein.

"I'd like to buy ten. Ten of those roses. Red, please." My request slipped from my teeth sweetly as if sugar was coating the tough exterior of my molars. She nodded, pushing the soiled artifact that hung limply through the gaps between my fingers aside.

Ten red roses were bought. Ten red roses were bagged. Ten red roses had been burned.

And ten red roses had been forgotten.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Total. No." My voice was meek, crackly sounding as it left my throat. I hadn't touched, nor tasted a single gulp of water since he left. My stomach growled viciously. I craved a hamburger. A delicious meat patty. I could not condone myself to venture further in my culinary fantasies. I craved love.

Minute by minute, I was killing away of what was left of my soul, my body.

I had become a walking corpse.

With ten burnt roses laid neatly across my lawn.

So...that's that! Thank you, readers! Thank you! Thank you! A million times! Just watching The Great Gatbsy. Crying my eyes out. I HATE DAISY! WHY?! SUCH A SAD ENDING! POOR GATSBY! STUPID TOM! FUCKING DAISY! They should've been murdered. God, I love that movie. And hate it. WAHHHHH...HERE COMES THE TEARS! Anywho...I'm revising the chaps before this to ensure they are good. Just to check. This story will have 9 more chapters and an epilogue. So there. R&R! Flames are proudly accepted! FOLLOW, FAVORITE, ETC...Peace!

A Carnival Of Idiots On Show