NEVER FORGET YOU✔Chenry Fanfic

3

Escape and freedom is one thing many people crave for but rarely achieve. Yesterday an unfamiliar feeling struck me. I thought I was going to finally be in the everlasting journey of ecstasy but I was dead wrong.

I'm still here staring into blank space. I stirred slightly on the lumpy couch that served as a bed last night and curled myself into a ball to conserve my body heat.

Nobody had died today. There was no smell of blood or fear. I let out a tired sigh of aggravation. Another 24 hours of hell I had to survive through.

I don't think anything new happens in my life. I don't know why I'm living. It is just the same old boring day. Waking up. Bathing in another colour. Exhibiting your dumb moods and watching the Graffiti Falls.

Nothing new. Death isn't anything nowadays. The only new thing is my clothes and this crappy building I live in.

I just need to relax today. I'll shower after painting my moods. As always, I feel blue. I'm so used to this feeling that I can walk my way through the painting wall when blind folded.

The water is crimson today. Just great! Smelling like roses when you have probably showered in a bastards blood.

I can't believe I have to put up with this. The only way to be free is one ugly word...Death.

I'm not ready to die. I have to find him. I have to tell him the truth. I have to talk to him. If I could have the chance. Just one minute, I would do many wonders.

Everyday is a challenge. The only thing that keeps me going is him. He is my soul-driving force.  He's the only thing that I hold on to. The only thing I stress about everyday is eating, drinking and him. I don't see the point of living anymore.

I heard a shriek outside. Someone was dying or as they say, art was taking place. It was a female shriek again. I peeped outside only to see Piper.

She was too young for that. I guess she also gave up. Her grey hair was caked in blood. Her blue eyes lost life as they stared directly into me. As if she was begging for something or trying to find inroads in me.

Her arm twitched as blood trickled from her lips. Traumatic it may seem. But they called it art. They couldn't understand that it was crime.

I closed my eyes and got stuck in a reverie for one second. The image began replaying in my mind over and over. This is the first time I had actually witnessed a crime.

My dagger was in my pocket. I could be a murderer. I could also end the life of someone with hopes and dreams. But I'm not one of them. I'm not an artist. I don't kill.

I'm only here for him.