A Little Bit Gone

A Little Bit Gone (Micro-Scene)

There she lay, nearly unconscious on the tile floor, and staring at the words painted on flesh, dripping crimson down her pasty arms. Words seemed to float on the tepid breeze coming from the bathroom vent.

Alone.

Unimportant.

Unnecessary.

All were words she had said over and again, they bled gray in my mind, flat and withdrawn. But one word floated through it all, and seeped color into my now slate colored world.

Loved.

She'd never believed me. She'd taken all of the hurt to heart, holding it inside her until she burst. She exploded in shades of crimson and gray, showing all who cared to look that she'd had enough. That it had been enough, and she was through with it all.

The copper scent of blood brought me out of my head and back to reality, back to my personal circle of hell. There was blood in every corner of the bathroom tiling: in the grout, shining on the face of each tile, clotted in her hair. I knew that I should probably do something to help her, but my mind was telling me that there was nothing I could do.

She was just gone.

I stared, one last time, at the girl I'd sought to fix, and the final message she'd given us all.

Escape.