TW: Mentions of blood, suicide and self harm
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He stared at her blankly.
There was blood and vomit on the ground, and Katy just sat there, tired and sad.
"Did you...?" Mickey wanted to ask, but just couldn't find the words to even utter out one sentence.
Katy only nodded, her eyes droopy... empty.
Mickey had nothing more to say as he just cried, because seeing his other half clinging onto life with broken hands-- about to let go, about to fall-- brought pain to his heart; and knowing he could do nothing about it only poured salt on his open wound.
"Wh-- why?" Mickey asked, his throat dry, his words hollow. He kneeled down next to Katy, her arms scattered with cuts.
The knife she used as a pen laid still on the floor, covered in dark red ink.
And somehow, Katy managed to allow a weary smile to grow on her face. She shook her head, fluttering her eyes closed.
"I like the... pain. It keeps me-- it keeps me alert. It reminds me of what I deserve; the agony." Katy's wispy voice said-- on the brink of death. Her eyes reopened, her breath slowing.
Mickey wanted to tell her so many things, to comfort her, to somehow save her and act as a hero he knew he could never be-- but it was simply too late.
Because that was the day his best friend died-- and now the pen runs through his skin as well because the guilt of the ghost of her never left his shoulders, and the dark red ink slowly drowned him as well.
262 words
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There's not much to say for this, but I did try... y'know. And the only way I can properly express my feelings is through writing, which is how this happened.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories :P
RandomBehind these books and words stand a lonely writer with an explosion of thoughts and feelings she is never able to show. Read this book to get an insight on small snippets of my life. ~Editing/checking finished~
