Samples.

8. Glass Hearts.

Why must the bitter hands of fate take hold of us? With one dark kiss, ice envelopes our hearts, freezing our veins, leaving only an empty shell behind.
The short, slender boy named Jacob turned slowly away from the embellished coffin. Shades of cobalt, crimson, emerald, and amber were cast across his pale face as the rays of the sun passed through the stained glass windows. The atmosphere was too heavy to allow the light to dance over his features, but that didn't prevent his tear-streaked cheeks from catching the glare. 
The past week had given Jacob many things to reflect on. Too many. 

Suicide wasn't star-crossed lovers, it wasn't tragic love stories, beautiful tear-filled eyes and a sad story. The images of pretty pale bodies in bathtubs, or lying peacefully on beds beside empty pill bottles were only things of fiction. The reality of it consisted of horror beyond comprehension, bloodied sheets and shattered hearts. It was screaming until your throat was hoarse, choking on your own tears as your body ached. Broken bottles, cracked mirrors, bloody knuckles, and incomparable despair. 
Jacob had discovered a side of himself that he'd never been aware existed. 

The day of the funeral, he had barely managed to drag himself out of bed. He was mentally and physically exhausted. His hair was knotted and hadn't seen a brush for seven days. He couldn't even remember if he'd changed into a clean pair of underwear. 
Arriving at the service, he did not speak a word to anybody. His friends and family tried to comfort him through their sobs, to receive no response.
His feet carried him quickly out of the church, pushing his way through the crowd of weeping acquaintances. Jacob's legs buckled and he collapsed on the gravelled driveway. He made no effort to get back onto his feet despite his throbbing knees. He couldn't care less about himself. It was all his fault. 
'Why didn't I notice?'
'Why didn't I stop him?' 
'What the fuck is wrong with me?'
The blame all rested on him. Tears darkened his suit jacket and blood seeped through the knees of his trousers. Jacob wiped the droplets from his face, the saltiness stinging his scraped hands. He stared at his hands, trying to distract himself long enough to regain his composure. His knuckles were bruised, a stark contrast of deep violet on ashy porcelain. His nails had been bitten and some broken. 
If only he'd noticed the warning signs, then maybe none of this would've happened. 

Jacob was perched on the edge of his bed, his shirt unbuttoned and his tie loosened. He had been sitting there for hours, recalling every detail of Adam. His deep, dark eyes, his soft bronzed skin, his strong arms, his confident yet caring personality. Everything. It was all gone. 
He cast his mind back to all the times they'd spent together, analysing everything, picking at the smallest hint that could've tipped him off, but in the moment, it hadn't. Racking his brain until morning twilight, he realised something.
The warning signs that he had been searching for, they never existed in the first place. He knew something had felt out of place. Adam had never thought of self-harm. 
This was not a simple suicide, it was murder. 

***

A/N: So basically I'm gonna put my one-shots on hold and just post samples of possible works I could publish, so feel free to tell me what you think.