Writing Prompts (Over One Hundred)

Writing Prompts 27

I sob into my arms as I think of the future we could've had together. The one that we could still have. I force myself to stand up from my bedroom floor. I angrily pull some clothes from my drawers. Then I head into the shower, still sobbing. Good thing my parents are away for a business trip, otherwise I'd be getting pestered. As soon as I get into the shower, I drop to the floor, still bawling my eyes out.

     You need to stop choosing her over me. I get it that you are best friends with her. I do. But you can't let her ruin every date we go on. Every time that we are going someplace, she always calls and interrupts with something to complain about. And you always go to her, to comfort her. I make her feel okay. You never choose me over her.

     I'm done.

     The steaming water hits my back, so hot that it's almost to the point of scalding my skin. I hardly notice. I slid farther to the ground till I'm curled up in a ball. I can see the skin turning red from the hot water. I close my eyes. I think I've exhausted my tear supply.

     Here I am, sobbing into the lonely night, while there you are, probably hanging out with her, choosing her over me again. I'm done. I don't want this anymore. I stand up abruptly, smacking my head against the faucet, angrily crying again, but I haul myself up anyway. I step out of the shower, dry off with so much anger it surprises me I have skin left, and get dressed. Then I walk into my room.

     More anger settles into my veins. I clench and unclench my fists. I slam my fist again my other fist. I angrily punch my wall. Luckily it leaves no damage. I hit it again, in a different place. Then again. It numbs my mental pain. It leaves me focused on something other than you and her. At the mere thought, I punch the wall again, I hear a crack in my hand but am too bloody mad to care. I grab my mug from off of my nightstand and hurl it across the room. It was the mug you have to me. I hear a satisfying crunch.

     Suddenly I collapse to the ground, too weak from pain- both mental, and physical- to get back up again. So as my hair billows out around me, I lay in the midst of my destruction, the epitome of my pain. Then I sleep, too weary to bother to care anymore. So I sleep, with several shards of glass in my back, a broken hand, and beaten knuckles. And swollen, teary eyes. But my sleep is blissful.

•••••

     I hear a door open, and my name get called. I see sunlight peeping through the closed curtains. It is morning. The voice is familiar. It's your voice. I close my eyes. I don't want to see you. I hear you call my name again. I don't respond. Finally you come to my room. You open the door. I hear you gasp.

     "Lucy! Lucy what happened, are you okay? Lucy?"

     I wonder if you actually care, or if you're just scared my parents will be angry with you. I don't know. But I keep my eyes closed and you watch me breathe. You cradle me to your chest.

     "Lucy, what have you done?" You ask it softly, fearfully, as if I were going to break. But I couldn't break anymore, because I was already broken. I open my eyes slowly. Your eyes are closed, but I see tears drop from your lashes.

     You stand up, cursing softly when your arm comes in contact with one of the glass shards in my back. You set me on my bed. I don't even fight. You lay me on my stomach. You run to the other room and hurriedly come back with a warm washcloth. You gently take the shirt off. You ease the small glass shards from their punctures in my back. Then you clean me, with the warm wash cloth. Muttering about something under your breath. I rest my head on my pillow, shifting my head so that I could breathe. Then you take a long look at my hands, you clean them up and say something about bringing my by the clinic for the swollen hand. You don't know it's broken.

     "Lucy, what happened?"

     You sit me up, letting me lean against your arm. You look at me with concern through your big blue eyes.

     "You never choose me, you always choose her." I shut my eyes. Leaning away from you. I love you. But I don't think you love me back.

     "What do you mean, Lucy? I love you, I want you, and only you."

     "Then why do you always choose her over me?" Raw hurt, so deep it shocks you, fills my voice. You look at me. Then you hug me tight.

     "Lucy, Jess has cancer, I'm just trying to get the last moments with her that I can."  Then you pull me away to hold me at an arm's length. You gaze at me. I begin to feel foolish.

     Tears dribble down my face, I begin to sob.

     "I'm sorry." I whisper though a painful lump in my throat. You hold me tight. Like you never want to let me go. I slowly clasp my arms around you, hugging you back.

     "I love you, Lucy. You'd better know that." You softly push the hair out of my eyes. We gaze at each other for a moment longer.

     "Never do that to me again, Lucy."

     I smile a painful smile and say it back to you. "I love you." Then you carry me down the stairs to the car, to bring me to the clinic. For my wrist.

     I settled into your chest, glad that you were mine, and I dozed off into a peaceful sleep because I knew that even though Jess had cancer, so did I, and I had only a few weeks left to live, but you don't know that. I'll forgive you. It's not your fault you don't know. But as I pass into sleep this time, in your arms, I know it's going to be my last. So I quickly reach up and kiss you, whispering that I love you. You kiss me back and tell me you love me too. But then I fall into sleep. A peaceful oblivion in which I shall never awake. Then I wonder if you'll regret all those times you chose her over me. But I forgive you anyways. And as I open my mouth one last time. I say the words.
They are so light they float in the air like feathers before fading away.

     "I forgive you."

     Then I pass peacefully away, glad I had ended life on happy terms. I knew I had vexed myself too much last night but it was too late now. Now it was time to pass into Heaven. I felt the last of life fade from me and I could finally go. Imagining that I had left an impact in you life, glad to know you did care for me, that my life wasn't meaningless. I love you Charlie. And you loved me too.

                     The End.

That wasn't really a writing prompt, that was a short story I guess. Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading! Please vote and comment and share! Thanks,

Payton Janae:).

I'm actually going to make this a short story. . .