Art Of War

Day 15: Story

"This story doesn't start with a once upon a time or Their once was. This story isn't complete. I'm not sure it ever will be. This story starts with a grave. She stood there helplessly crying for a life that would never come back. Someone who insulted her. Someone she didn't even really know. He loved mysteries so much that he himself became one. This girl stood there crying over his grave.

They were brutally and madly in love with each other. Not the girl and the grave but the girl and her best friend. He was the one person she counted on. He stood there in the darkness and dragged her into the light. He brought her to safety when she herself wasn't safe alone. Little did she know he loved her. He loved her imperfections. He loved her essence. He loved the warm smile she had. He loved how she listened to him. He loved her. She loved his smile. She loved the way he hugged her when she was sad. She loved the way he walked. The way he generated happiness. The way he made her feel okay. The way he sung out of tune. She loved him.

" Why do you cut?" He asked her one day.

" Because the human skin is hard to live in thats why most of us cut it open." She answered.

" I get that." He said and rolled up his sleeve. She did the same.

" Don't do that again." She said tears filling her eyes.

" I won't do it if you don't." He smiled wiping away her tears. She nodded and hugged him.

They had many moment like that. When they first met in third grade she was crying because a girl had pulled her hair.

" You okay?" He asked.

" No. Honestly I don't remember the last time I was okay." She said wiping away her tears.

" Tell me why you're not okay." He said taking a seat next to her.

" The girl pulled my hair." She replied.

" No the full story from the beginning." He laughed. She told him about her family and everything that went on. How she was being bullied and how she was being abused at home. He told her to come to his house if it ever got to much. She came over one day in six grade crying at his front porch and he invited her in. He sat across from her as she cried. He said nothing.

" I'm sorry." She said.

" For what?" He asked confused by her apology.

" I'm sorry for being sad." She cried.

" Don't apologize we all get sad." He said getting up. He got her tissues and sat next to her as she cried on his shoulder he knew he loved her. She was standing at the grave crying. He came up behind her with a box of tissues. They stood there at the grave together holding hands as she cried for her lost sister. Who died of an asthma attack." I told Isis the story my father told me when I was a little kid. It was my bedtime story.

" That's beautiful." She said.