My Tired Princess

3

He felt an aura of oddness surround him, it didn't take him long to figure out his feelings: Remorse and Hatred. She shouldn't have come here. It's hard enough for him to get through the day just thinking about her, but now knowing there are more letters? He couldn't handle it. He wasn't sure if he should read them... It didn't seem right to do so. He wanted to know what she was writing and feeling; all Grace said was that these were during the times they didn't see each other or hang out, so he was getting a tad curious to see what she was saying during their semi-hiatus.

Hours later, Christopher(Chris) had then finished reading all her unsent letters, that were indeed for him. They all linked to him or something that impacted her life: her abuse, her memories, even him, but In a positive manner. He didn't know about her suicidal thoughts resurfacing again... He knew she had those thoughts though, but she stopped talking about them prior to her doing the deed... All he felt at the moment was guilt. He could've saved her from her ultimate demise. He could've pushed further for an answer; he could've gone inside with her when he dropped her off; he could've asked her to stay longer... So many endless opportunities that he had at the time, and yet he chose not to ask. He chose to think she was okay, and that it wasn't serious at all; turns out, she wasn't okay and she was struggling everyday.

Then and there his sorrow and regret turned into anger and frustration. He could feel his blood boiling to the brim and it rushing to his head. He couldn't contain his feelings anymore. "Why this! Why couldn't she have held on longer?" He bellowed and kept mumbling profanity. Anything he could get his hands on to were thrown and ripped apart. He kept screaming in hopes that it was all just some sick and twisted dream, but it wasn't. That's what made everything worse. He had so much anger bottled up that his room became his punching bag. After he had basically put all his possessions in ruins, he looked around. All his picture frames chipped, trophies, desk chair and shelf were broken in many places and in pieces, he then felt more guilt.

"What have I become?" He cried out as he buried his hands that were bloodied up and covered with cuts. "What's wrong with me!" He cried more.

First Person POV

"A broken hearted boy." A voice whispered. I looked up to see my mother, tears falling from her eyes all the way down onto her chin. "You're upset, because you had the girl of a life time taken away from your grasp, but that's okay. I felt the same way when your father died. I miss him as much as you miss your own sweetheart..." She croaked out as she put her hands around my neck; I froze, not knowing how to react to such an abrupt outburst. I've never seen my mom cry... This is really new to me. Even when dad did die, she didn't cry infront of me; she didn't cry in front of anyone. We would see her tear up, with eyes super red, but yet... No one saw her tears fall. She kept the tears and heartbreak at home, whereas I, would have my emotions on my shoulders, weighing me down wherever I go, dragging me down.        Her tiny whispers escalated into heart wrecking sobs; her breathing became uneven and she then started to do the hiccup thing. I stood up and pulled her close, making sure no space was left between us, and rubbed her back. I set my head on top of her head and let her put the silent cries to an end. 'She's letting it out, at least she's letting it all out now.' I thought to myself. Countless minutes were filled with heart-breaking sobs, until she shed ceased her cries. I pulled her away, seeing that her makeup was now streaming down on to her soft baby face, so I grabbed the tissue box that was left on my bed. As I was about to turn, there were arms wrapped around my waist; looking over my shoulder, it was my mom.

"Thank you... I didn't mea-"

"It's okay, everyone needs to let it out sooner or later ma. How about you go take a bath? I need to clean this place up..." He faded off as he rubbed on the nape of his neck.

"Okay, you do what you need to." As she was just out the door, she looked at me and gave a white hearted smile, "I love you, son."
In return I gave back a full smile.

"I love you too, mom"

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Second POV
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Chris had just finished throwing all the broken things in his room into the garbage and felt completely exhausted. After he'd clean his hands and bandage them, he went up to his room. From there, he took off his shirt and changed into a pair of sweats. He fell on to his bed, filled with fatigue, eyes becoming too difficult to keep open. He retreated into his blanket, rolling into a burrito-like wrap.
'Maybe it's best to let go, for her sake...' Was the last thought that came to Chris as he finally began to softly snore.