oneshot collection *ੈ✩‧₊˚

v. / dying fire

inspired by writing prompts on pinterest.

tw!! mentions of self-h4rm, su1c1de. read at your own risk.
—
i looked into the worn out, cracked mirror in the corner of my room. with barely any space in here, i felt claustrophobic; like i couldn’t breathe. i lifted up my arms, rolling up my sleeves. scars. tugged on my shirt collar to expose a little bit of my collarbone area. more evident scars.

i’ve had a clean streak for almost two years now. i promised someone…vowed that i won’t hurt myself again.

but that was two years ago. that person…she’s lost somewhere in my thoughts, my memory isn’t that great. though she’s dear to me, i don’t remember her name. all i know is that she left me behind. how? i have no clue. but her missing presence pains my lonely, longing heart.

she was my first love, my last dance. she was the only person i wanted to spend my forever with. she too, said the same to me. yet, she dares to leave her “one and only love” behind — liar. backstabber.

she was my everything. if i could, i would drag her back to me. i won’t let her leave my side. i don’t want to love anyone else except her. i don’t care if i sound selfish.

she’s gone now. she had crossed a bridge that i can’t follow. i blame myself everyday for her departure.

tears build up in my eyes again and run down my solemn face. oh, there i go again, picking up the bloodstained penknife.

one slit; “i didn’t protect her enough”. two slits; “im at fault”. three slits; “i can’t bring her back”…

crimson red blood trailed down my arm, i looked at it and smiled. blood dripped onto my skirt, its colour spreading itself across the white fabric. i thought, ‘if she can’t come to me, i’ll go to her.’

i covered my new cuts with my sleeves, letting the delicate material fill itself with vibrant red. i walked out onto my balcony and gave the world one last glance.

“what a great day to live on the 13th floor,” i breathed, before pushing myself off the ledge, plunging. i may have broken her promise, but at least i get to see her. i’ll get to meet her in the afterlife. see you soon, my love — even if you don’t love or even remember me anymore.

my body finally felt the touch of the concrete ground, putting out my inner spark, driving me into unconsciousness.

~~~

“gosh damn it, not again! dad, the fire went out!”

laughs “the fire must not be in the mood to thrive today. don’t worry kiddo, i’ll get more firewood.”
—
a/n: this was so badly written someone k-word me

( google document version:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CyTdUeYnk45G1hUbB78jLYqzOefUonD-nDlTAcBTDXk/edit?usp=drivesdk )