kinks and all

Happy Ending

no smut, Angst only
//written for a contest

metaphor/terms used-

black tears symbolize the loss of something or someone close to you. Great sorrow, grief, and a significant loss.

An eye that is crying a red tear of blood as a symbol of the brutality and tragic victims of war and conflict

waking up in the beautiful elegant morning, birds chirping, sunlight peeking through the curtains, fitness buffs out on morning runs, children hopping off to school, some minds felt at ease in sweet blissful sleep, but there was nothing blissful about the sleep of one particular woman in the small apartment in Boston. Black tears ran down her cheeks, memories and flashbacks haunting her dreams on a loop like a broken record stuttering to work yet playing daunting music again, and again. 

they say there are multiple stages of grief. denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. she'd been through most of them, she'd been in denial of the horrible traumatic incident, she'd raged, howled, and bled herself with that darn punching bag, till her knuckles bruised, till her nose bled, she'd bargained with god with the storm inside putting off the tears that threatened to fall any second. but this didn't last long, shock froze her body but eventually, depression washed down her body like a bucket of cold water on a snowy day, heavier than ever the ice bruising her. The stage that seemed to last forever, haunting her to no one's consolation. 

she'd cry for days locked in the dreadfully bright walls of her room, looking at herself in the flowered mirror with hollow eyes and a heavy heart. regretting each second, adorning her scars with hateful eyes whispering, "It should have been me, it wasn't his fault" The stuffed unicorn in hand, remembering the day when her brother had given it to her, nostalgia and pain in her dark red tears and wistful eyes. the guilt in her body in a colossal amount that it fell from her once joy-sparkled eyes. the bright walls and colorful walls like a prison, the storm inside matching nothing of the surrounding. the warm summer mornings made everything seem all too chirpy, it couldn't have been too much to ask for some dark grey clouds, some humble rain. yet nothing like it happened, there was no light at the end of the tunnel, no ending to it at all.

the loud knocks and concerned voices eventually died down, but not completely, they'd knock every now and then with words like, "Please come out, at least eat something" in sweet soft voices as if talking to a child, she wasn't two, she was just depressed. and what she felt no one could understand

you couldn't even begin to comprehend the pain she was going through

and it's a pity. 

we, as humans, can't even begin to comprehend the pain of someone who has experienced something like that, we may feel pity, sympathy, and empathy but none of these feelings mean anything, it doesn't help if only it makes everything worse she feels in the spotlight that her feelings aren't valid, that the people around her tried her best to validate them but sneering behind her back, her feelings termed as dramatic. 

but her days were getting better, time passed and it took her guilt with her, slow and steady but there were days she'd fall worse than ever. but through it all, the one person who'd helped her the most, was her brother's best friend, her boyfriend. he reminded her of her brother ever so often but he was always there for her. 

tw// suicide 

as she lay in her bed that night, having eaten in days, the thoughts of a better life invaded her mind, if she'd die today would anyone truly miss her? She wondered what she would write in her suicide note... perhaps it would go like... to anyone who cares, I deeply apologize for my deed but the guilt of killing my brother killed me, it would go on to list feelings she could never express, some regrets of not visiting places she'd dreamed of, books she never got to read, things she couldn't do. but how none of it mattered because she believed death was beautiful

death was like laying in a meadow of poppies and sunflowers, bees buzzing, the fluttering of thin wings, the smell of honey and freshly cut grass, the comforting sound of an eagle scream and the call from the mountains, death must be beautiful, so loving and elegant like a shower of petals, where you could chase the wind, touch the sky. deep waters holding reflections of time lost long ago, death a beautiful tale the perfect ending to a tragic story. the sky clear and bright, the moment long-awaited, reunited with her brother in the field of poppies they once lay as children, meeting there once again finding grace humility, and joy. 

"but I'd miss you" the voice feeble and calm, bringing her back to reality. She hadn't realized when she got up from bed and sat on the edge of the balcony. she'd used to this, getting lost in thought and ending up somewhere in a matter of seconds, time a funny thing indeed, "hmm?", "you're planning to jump, I'd miss you" "That's what you want to say?" her voice is calmer than you'd expect

"would you rather have me say don't jump it's not worth it? it's true but if you've made up your mind and you believe you'll be happier this way, then go for it I'm certainly no one to stop you. but I nevertheless, want you to know you didn't kill your brother and before you protest, yes you were the one that was driving and got lost in a phone call but it's not your fault, you can't blame yourself" "hoba, I miss him" "I do too" he sits beside me on the edge, looking at the city below, "it's a beautiful night, it would be rather poetic to jump now", "I adore poems, especially the ones with sad endings", "indeed lovely letter by the way" he points to the note on my bed, "if I'm going to do it I'll do it right" he intertwines her fingers with his, "let go, I'm jumping" "and I'm joining you" "no" 

"yes, I tried to stay strong I did I truly did, but I lost my best friend too, and I'm not losing the love of my life, I'll join you in the beauty of death's meadow", "hoba, I love you" "I love you too" "I think not marrying you would be a regret" "we'll get married as ghosts, it'll cost us less" they share a few laughs before clutching onto each other tighter. 

they jumped. the fall isn't scary, adrenaline pumps into them, electricity sparks between them, and the biggest smile on their lips, joy like none. freedom. finally free. the pain of hitting the ground is numbed by the joy, they're holding hands, faces inches apart, foreheads connected, "I love you" "and I you" their hands and bodies covered in a blanket of blood, freedom sweeter than ever, joy is the last feeling that they feel as the life out of their eyes slowly fades away. 

--

love so tragic, yet so perfect love and pain go hand in hand, but if some kind of love lasts longer than life, suffering shall end, and pain shall wash away the only thing left is the love you and I share.