Short Stories

1. I Still Love you

   *Trigger Warning- Depression and Self Harm*

   She was beautiful. Not beautiful in the traditional sense, but beautiful in the ways only known to her. Her thin, paint covered fingers skimmed the pages, fanning them slightly to give off the feeling of a morning breeze. Her eyes glowed with unshed tears, a green made brighter for the pain they held. She was hurting, and their wasn't anything I could do about it.
   The pages I live within were stained a dull copper color from the blood that would roll down her thin arms as she clung me to her chest and cried those tears she held onto all day. Her body would rack and shudder as the sobs spilled out and she clung to me tighter.
I loved her, but that's not possible.
When she was away, I would plan out what I would do if she could join me here. I'd grab the picnic blanket, the one she loves, and some fresh apples from the tree that would hang above us. I would whisper in her ear as I rubbed her frail back telling her that everything would be okay and that I wasn't going to leave. I would cut the apples into thin stars and adorne them with some peanut butter, she always loved peanut butter. She used to sit on her bed eating as she read me... But that was before.
Why can't I join her?
Today, she brought home another guy. I thought she loved me, too, but I was wrong. Bile rose in my throat as they rolled around on the bed. The bed creaked and groaned and slid the nightstand I laid on further and further away. I still love her.
She cut her hair. I can see it now more than ever, her demons are catching up with her. I wish she would look at me where I lay opened. She could find happiness in my open pages. I wish she would smile that smile that made my heart melt at the funny bits and I wish she would run her fingers down my spine. That always calmed her. Bright red marks rest on her neck... She's slipping away from me. I wish I could hide her blades. She don't need them. She's perfect. Perfectly imperfect. She never seen the beauty I did. She don't see the way her eyes shift to a light green when the light streams in through the thin window curtain. She don't see the way people's heads turn when she walks into a room in awe, not the way I can from my spot in her army green bookbag. She deserves to be happy, but people and herself drag her down. I still love her.
New marks cover her wrist. She tells her mom they're nothing as her fingers pull the sleeves of her hoodie down further, but I know. I know she needs help. Why won't her mom notice her? Why does she push her away? The blood is starting to seep through her jacket as she rest with me in her lap. Now, more than ever before, I wish I could join her this time and clean her cuts and kiss them to make the pain go away.
I haven't been sleeping. I feel numb and the bags under my eyes are growing with the tears that she holds in her eyes, I need to get out.
She sits at her desk writing. Writing and writing so much I think her hand is going to fall off. Her grip and posture seem at ease. Is she happier? I breath a sigh of relief as my fingers dig into my wrist and cringing as a thin stream of blood flows out. I'm okay. I still love her.
Screaming. Screaming is all I hear. A blood chilling scream and siren. Blue and red shine on my pages and heavy footsteps pound up the stairs and someone yells, "please don't leave, I still need you," her mom.
   Some time later, her sister walks into the room with her makeup running down her face in streaks and she gingerly picks up the piece of paper my love was writing on and opens it slowly. Her eyes betray her as tears cascade out and she grips the the note to her chest and collapses to the ground. I still love her.
She hasn't came back. She's not going to either. The note is tucked inside my pages and I can't move. "Please protect him, I love him,"
My heart hurts and the only relief is the blade that kisses my skin. I feel nothing. She's gone and I don't want to be alive.
Today.. Her mom came into her room with boxes and cried as she slowly filled the boxes with my loves stuff... eventually she got to me and picked me up. I could see it in her eyes that she didn't understand why me. Why I was I so special to her daughter. She cared about her.. I see that now, she just didn't know how to express it.
I haven't been shut since I was purchased. The covers slowly started coming together and I struggled for air, "Stop please! I can't do this alone, it's dark and I still love her,"