ashes [m.h.] (Completed)

Chapter 43.

WARNING: THIS IS THE MOST TRIGGERING THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Songs for this chapter: Nana and She lays down by The 1975

Maggie's p.o.v. (can't be Matty's :'( )

I've never been one to cry so easily over death. As far as I know, I had always accepted it as a natural part of life. When my dad died it was no different. I didn't feel a thing. Call me heartless, but I knew life would catch up with him soon enough. From every stranger of a cousin, aunt ,or uncle's funeral, I never shed a tear.

That is until Matty.

It has been a while. Hours, days, weeks. Hell, I don't know. Nothing mattered anymore. All I could think about was him. From the first time we met to the last time he kissed my lips, it all infested my mind like a plague.

I spent God knows how long locked in my dorm, sobbing like a baby. I lost count of how many times I completly broke down over the time span.

Jackson came by every other day or so, forcing me to eat something, even though my body rejected every last bit. I was only a shell of the girl Matty left behind.

The funeral was absolute torture. Jackson spent his time planning a small service for closure. It was sad that he, my mother and I were the only ones to attend. But what did I expect. Matty was truly  something else, and it took a particular person to realize the beauty behind his dark eyes.

"Ready to go?" Jackson's voice reached my ears.

His larger frame stands in the doorway awaiting my response.

I nod. I haven't felt the need to speak much lately, sending myself into a muted mindset.

"Alright," Jackson sighs at my silence. "Let's go."

I follow his lead and we make our way out towards his car.

A couple days prior he suggested we go by Matty's place. Apparently once you're dead and stop paying your bills, the owner wants you out. He thought it was a good idea for me to come along, see if there was anything there that was mine or I wanted to keep. I just prayed I could keep it together.

As if seeing his building wasn't hard enough, walking through the same entrance and riding up the same elevator I once did with Matty was like a punch to the throat.

"Hey, you okay?" Jackson asks, voice full of concern, as we step out of the elevator.

I nod.

"Alright well I'm going to give you some time. I gotta talk to the owner about some things." He sends a small smile my way before unlocking the door and leaving me to myself.

I stare at the door a beat longer than intended, before opening it cautiously and making my way in.

It looks exactly the way I left it the day Matty and I fought. Open cabinets, hole in wall, and all.

My feet take me further and further inside, daring to step foot in the worst room of them all. His bedroom.

I don't think on it, making a brave move inside. The empty atmosphere of the room settles through my body, mirroring my own heart.

The bed is the one thing that catches my eye. Some of the best memories took place in between these messy sheets. All the love I had for him had been given in this very spot. From our first 'I love you's' to my first and last taste of weed, I shared it all with this boy in the midsts of these four walls.

I couldn't help myself. I knew it'd be only a matter of time before my emotions got the best of me.

Tear flooded my eyes as my hands finds its way to the softness of the mattress. I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't come here and expect myself not to fall apart.

He's dead, and it's all my fault.

My body is far too numb to feel the pain anymore. The dull, aching pain in my heart no longer a constant reminder of him. I needed that. I needed to feel his pain. I deserved it.

My eyes went to the shiny piece of metal on the small table that held the lamp next to his bed. It was a sign.

I was there within seconds, snatching the handheld item in an instant.

A pocket knife.

I quickly ran out of tears as I stared at it intensely. It called my name. Screamed it to the top if it's lungs. Oh how it longed to kiss it's blade to the skin of my wrists.

I'm desperate to feel something. Anything to remind me that I'm still alive.

I had made my way into the familiar bathroom now, the white lighting casting an odd tint onto my features. I stand there, the small knife shaking in my right hand as the other grips the countertop, holding me up. I look into the mirror, eyeing my ghostly appearance.

The dark circles under my eyes look more like bruises. My eyes sunken in and lips cracked and dry. My hair is shoved into a ponytail and so knotted you couldn't attempt to run a hand through it.

I don't care. I didn't care about anything lately. I didn't care about combing through my hair when I bothered to shower. I didn't care about standing under the shower water much, even when it was so hot I came out a shade of pink. And I very much do not care now about what I was about to do.

With a flick of my thumb the shiny blade makes an appearance.

"I love you Matty" I utter the first words I've spoken in weeks. My voice is small and hoarse, my throat lacking the proper moisture.

Without a second thought I bring the cool of the metal to the warm flesh of my wrist, reminding me of Matty's own cold fingers.

"I love you." I repeat.

The cool blade sinks itself further as the deep red liquid begins to show. I didn't care as I realized I was now getting blood all over the bathroom floor after every slice of the sharp edge of that knife would cut into my wrists.

Matty was gone now. No more arguing with him, no more laughing with him. His deep laughter that made my chest heavy with emotions.

I will never be able to run my hands through his hair again, or feel his warm lips moving against mine. Never again able to look into those chocolatey eyes of his that held so much. At least not until I'm dead and gone, burried with him in the coldness of the earth.

A ghost of a smile appears on my lips at the thought.

I let a light feeling wash over me as I feel my legs grow weak. My eyes fall to the floor, collecting up the puddle of red beneath me. I watch as it blurs in and out, splotches of black filling my vision.

It's as if I'm someone else watching myself from above. I witness my own body crash to the floor, the life slowly fading from my veins, as I paint the tiled floor a beautiful rose red.

My last breath is drawn from my lips just as a worried Jackson opens the door.

I can feel the sadness in his heart as he stumbles upon my lifeless body. His eyes don't bother going to the river of red, as he simply closes his eyes in pain.

"Oh, Maggie." He whispers. Nothing but pain etched in his words.

I'm sorry.