Writing Stuffs

My Other Half

There she was. The love of my life. My other half. My soul mate. She was right in front of me, but not like I had ever imagined. She laid before me in a bed of mahogany and satin. Her short brown hair was a mess, just like mine. She always had it that way. The only one keeping me alive is now dead. I wanted to look away from her, but I couldn't help but stare. She looked so beautiful just lying there. She wore a white t-shirt she'd made herself only a year ago that she was so proud of, or so I'd heard from her sister. Black skinny jeans covered her legs and black converse were placed on her feet. She looked so much like me. Her pale skin was no longer so, but whiter than me and transparent. The blush in her cheeks had been drained. I wanted to reach out and take her hand. I kept hoping she'd open her sweet brown eyes to see me. I wanted to hear the laugh I'd missed. But most of all, I just wanted her. I couldn't take it anymore. I turned and ran. I ran all the way back to the hotel, into the bathroom. I took the small pocket knife out of my pocket and set it on the sink. I stripped myself of everything except my underwear. I picked up the knife and cradled it in my hands as I thought to do what I hadn't in so long. Before I knew it, there was blood trickling down my legs from the cuts in my thighs. I winced in pain, but continued. The blade worked itself up to my wrists, slicing through my pale skin and releasing the red liquid. I stared at myself in the mirror as I ran the blade across my chest, over my heart, etching an 'X' onto the blank canvas of skin. I heard knocking at the door, but ignored it as I did the last thing I would ever do. I slit my throat and dropped the knife, instinctively gasping for breath. I blacked out, but not before using my last breath to say "I love you, so much."