The hardening cement

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Pouring the golden liquid into a crystal glass, I place the bottle of whiskey back on the bench and grab the glass, walking towards the wide window

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Pouring the golden liquid into a crystal glass, I place the bottle of whiskey back on the bench and grab the glass, walking towards the wide window. Taking a large gulp I watch as the rain pounds against the window making the world seem like a blur.

It's colder now.

The world I mean.

Everything just seems colder now. The places, the memories, even the words people say now a days to one another seem cold. But the people are worse. Their hearts are as cold as their hands. Mankind seems to be getting colder and colder as time passes.

My heart has been broken and my tears have been spilt but I have learnt to cope. To protect my heart, and to wash away the tears. The hardening cement of my heart seems to weigh down my soul and spirit, leaving the happy boy I once was behind.

Taking another large gulp of whiskey, I enjoy the slight burn of alcohol going down my throat. I turn around and my eyes immediately glue on to my array of kitchen knives. I leave my glass on the window sill and slowly make my way towards the kitchen.

Images flutter through my mind, of me grabbing on to the steak knife and shoving it through my chest, puncturing my cement heart. Another thought flows through my mind, slicing my wrists open and watching as the blood runs down my wrists.

Shaking away the thoughts, I run my hand through my hair and breathe out.

I can't.

I never can.

Sighing I walk back towards the window.

Frustrated I grab my glass of whiskey and throw it across the room, watching as it broke into a million peices.

I pull on my hair again.

Why am I so craven? 

Craven AU - M.Y.Where stories live. Discover now