Sinister Tales

Pain

This story is much like A Girl Named Alaina, so please don't hate me for it.

Pain

2015 © All Rights Reserved

The real horror is reality itself.

My heart didn't start out as broken. It didn't come with the scratches or holes it seemed to have gathered overtime. It was perfect, unscathed and unknown to the feeling of hurt.

A lot of things molded my heart. Experiences, music, people, the list goes on and on. The tragedy of death could make my heart feel like a powerful grip grabbed it and squeezed until it would eventually give out. Music would make my heart sing along to the melody. People would either mend or break at my heart until it was worn down to the point of no repair.

They say the first heartbreak is the worst. They say it because it's the first time you ever feel real pain, the first time you find out that the real world isn't full of rainbows and happiness. The world harbors evil things like sorrow and suffering. They say the first heartbreak is the worst, but that's not true. Each time your heart cracks more and more, you are reminded of every bit of pain your once pure, untouched heart has ever received. Reliving it is a killer in itself.

My name is Addie and I'll tell you of my first heartbreak.

I was young. Young and hopeful. A bad thought hadn't gone through my head. "You're young, you don't know what love is." There is never an age limit to knowing and feeling love. I never listened to anyone about what they had to say about my relationship. They were unimportant to the sea of blinded emotions I had for the person.

The calm sea turned into a stormy disaster as I found out that their heart didn't only belong to me.. in fact, it didn't belong to me at all. They had eyes for someone else. I felt like waves of sadness would just drown me right then and there.

"I want you to find happiness. Even if that happiness isn't with me." I remember telling them. The next day they were gone, falling for someone else while my heart had felt agony for the first time. Tears pushed out the sadness I was feeling while the music distracted my heart and mind temporarily with each strum that played to my heart like a remedy and lyrics that spoke to me. Not only was my heart effected, but my mind was going through its own war. For months, I couldn't get over it. But eventually I moved on. Life kept going, it didn't stop for anyone.

I met someone else.. they were so sweet. Full of life. As the relationship went on, something didn't seem right, but everything seemed perfect at the same time. I didn't want to ruin that, even if it was false perfection. I wanted to live in my own world of where happiness was alive again.

You deserve someone who won't hurt you. It was the last message I received from them before they decided to leave me. They didn't leave me for another person. Not this time. They left everyone, their life ceased to exist on this earth. No longer were they breathing. The second person I let myself care about took their own life and I ignored their pain, never bothering to ask if they were ever okay. Because I wanted to think everything was okay. Because of that, they were gone. It was fault. My heart had once again felt loss, but in a different kind of way. It was the first time I had ever lost someone in my life like that. Someone who was so close to me.

I didn't attend their funeral. I couldn't stand the thought of seeing their lifeless body in a casket. In my mind, I wanted to believe they were still alive and well. Soon enough, I couldn't ignore it. Guilt and despair, two overwhelming emotions crashed and moved through my body like  a fast spreading disease, taking over me quicker than I could have prepared myself. I wanted to succumb to the bad feelings, to give up myself. But I was too mentally and physically exhausted to even do that.

I want to think I had gotten over the time my heart had broken for the second time, but I think I just have grown to know sadness as a friend. Every once and a while it would come back to say hello. Sometimes I'm good at ignoring it. Sometimes..

After that, I told myself I could never let myself love anyone. For the only experiences I've had with it left my heart cracked and barely holding together.

Then I met someone. They came into my life unexpectedly. They didn't come to me with false happiness, I knew we shared a same kind of sadness. We were alike in ways, but we bonded over the littlest of things.

Everything seemed easy with them. Every little word made me listen intently, I took in everything they said as if it were a sweet song verse that I wanted to stay with me forever. Their laugh was heavenly. But in the back of my mind, something told me to run. My heart wanted to stay. It wanted the feeling of love once again. They didn't repair my heart, but put a safety blanket around it as if to say, "I'm here. I'll protect you from every bad thing in the world." My mind didn't want to believe it was real, but more of a temporary fantasy that would soon come crashing down and I'd be forced out of my new happiness and pushed into the harsh world of reality.

For the first couple months, it was perfect. I had learned to be happy again. I was becoming a better person not only for myself, but for them too.

Then the arguments came. I stayed, telling myself it was my fault that there was a disagreement in the first place. It was all my fault, but I'd do anything in my power to fix it. To mend all problems until we moved on from it.

Time is moving on and they seem distant. As if I held some fatal sickness and they stayed away at a safe distance to not get infected. You deserve better. Maybe we shouldn't talk. They started to say. My mind ignored it, thinking it was just rash thinking and a trick of mind. They didn't mean it. I would tell myself.

But I can feel it. The familiarity of misery was at a distance, slowly inching forward. Soon they were going to leave and I knew I would feel every bit of sadness I had locked away for so long.

As I grew older, the world seemed darker, colder. The smiles grew smaller. The laughs had become forced. The world took on a gloomier and more depressing turn. Everyone had different experiences, but one thing in common. Pain.

You wouldn't see it unless you took a close look into their lives. The older we grew, the easier it was for us to hide the despair. Even though it was always there, in the back of our minds, wondering when the next time we would feel the same horrible feeling again.

Author's Note: I hope you all don't hate me for not posting a horror story, but I feel like this is a horror story in its own kind of way. I hope you all enjoyed. Thank you all for the support you've given me.