The Beginning of the End (Editing)

Twenty Nine : Gone

Now that it's happened, I don't know whether having an alternate universe could even save me from heartbreak. It feels like I'm in one right now, only the whole fucking world is just forest and I'm the only person existing.

The alcohol is laced through my blood like the venom of a viper seeping through my veins, intoxicating every last inch of every last part of me that doesn't want to feel right now. My eyes glare into the thick growing forest and for a second I catch a glimpse of her healthy olive skin and piercing blue eyes- not the faded version of her. I like the older version better. The one that didn't know of the aching in my gut that screamed, "Let me love you, for I can do it so much better than them".

My feet twist and tumble over each other as I step further and further into this forget. Another swig of the poison, the cool glass bottle feeling sweet against my cracked lips mixed with the salty tears that stream numbly down my cheeks feels just as I want it to. It's the feeling of being able to be lost without being lost at all. The farther I walk into the trees, the farther my temporary fix will work. I blink once and she's staring at me, begging me to turn back around and to get in my car and drive home. My eyes dart open, and I'm seeing a dozen trees in one. I take another mouthful of the burning whiskey. "Turn around, please Kyle", she pleads as I blink again.

I want to tell her to go away, that she's hurt me so much that she's the one whose driven me here. But all in the same time I want to tell her to stay, to hug me and tell me that this is all a bad dream and that I'll wake up and nothing will have ever happened. But I know that I can't do that and I know that it won't happen. And it's all because of me.

Seconds pass in hours, and before I know it the liquor has made me lost. Really lost. I look around these unfamiliar grounds with wary eyes and a tumble to my step. My eyes are brought to the sky and see her in the peachy orange tainted clouds- the sun is setting in the most photogenic way yet my brain can't see it as a masterpiece. It's just another hateful reminder of the things she loved and that I loved about her.

"You bastard" I feel the words spit through my teeth as I look back to the grounds I've now grown somewhat familliar with. As soon as night falls Ill be okay. It'll just be me, my quarter full bottle of whiskey and the darkness embracing me in its haunting mist. I'll be able to forget wholly. Heck, maybe I'll be gone by morning. Maybe I'll have driven my self so insane that I take my own life.

The thought makes me quiver in a sick way. I always used to tell her that life would be better and that her life was worth living. Yet, here I am contemplating my senseless death over her. I know that if she were listening to my thoughts, she'd be sad for me. I don't want her pity, I don't want her to feel the way I did every torturous day that went by when she was oblivious to every shit I gave for her.

But I guess that doesn't matter now. Nothing matters now.. Other than this gorgeous bottle of whiskey that has pretty images of darkness dancing in my head, chanting words that shoot daggers at my body left right an center;

You did it
You did it
You did it

I don't want to go home, I don't want to have to face anyone or anything. Above all, I don't want to have to face her. I don't want to have to face her and not be able to tell her all the things I didn't say or should have said sooner, or try to say those things and not be able to ever have a fucking response.

Because Eleanor Lilliman is fucking dead.

Not because of cancer, not because of old-age like she should have, but because I chose to love her and she chose to run from it even though she wrote in fucking ink that she loved me too.

Theres a pain in my chest when I think about it, like my lungs have become steel and they're a weight that I don't want to fucking carry. I close my eyes for a brief moment, pushing more tears from them, and when I open them I'm looking at the clouds and I'm surrounded in leaves. Miles and miles of leaves.

The sky and it's clouds are still beautiful, but I hate it now that it reminds me of every time we sat together and watched them. Everything fucking reminds me of her, and now there's not a single fucking way to work around them because now...

Now she's fucking dead.

"Fuck!" I cry into the forest, followed by the flapping of birds wings echo through the branches. They then fly past my view in the sky. It looks like something Eleanor could have maybe painted, but she fucking can't anymore because she's fucking dead.

She's fucking gone.

She's really fucking gone.

"Fuck!" My voice breaks and I sluggishly sit up, bringing my knees forward. My hands venture their ways to the root of my hair and my elbows lean against my knees. Rocking back and forth is soothing in a sickening way, and the bottle of whiskey I have sitting next to me continues calling my name.

"You're a selfish prick, Kyle," I spit through gritted teeth, reaching for the liquor for what must be the thousandth time within the past few hours. I bring the glass lip to my mouth and close my eyes and that warm, burning feeling is a sensation I wish could just end me right here. Right now. I just want it to fucking end.

As I pull the bottle away I open my eyes, but instead of seeing the bottle I see Eleanors face pulling away from mine.

"Kyle," She whispers, bringing her cold hand to my cheek. I can't breathe, I can't speak, I can't feel.  "Please go home." Her voice is pleading, but ghostly. She's not real.

"You're not fucking real!" I yell out again, and her porcelain figure steps back. She looks at me, and looks and looks and looks.

"You're fucking dead, El!" My yell breaks into a cry, and once more I take a swig of the bottle but don't break eye contact with Eleanor. I see a second her through my drunken vision, maybe if I drink enough I won't see anything at all. I just don't want to be anything anymore.

She walks towards me softly, and I notice her feet are bare. She lowers herself down to my level, and her ice-cold thumb swipes over my cheek and rids it of it's tears. My eyes meet hers, and the blue of them are slightly wilder than ever. God I love you. How could I ever do what I did to such a beautiful soul?

"Kyle.." She whispers, inching her face closer to mine. I feel my heartbeat race faster, so fast that I feel as though it's stopped.

"I love you too," She breathes before pressing her soft but cold lips against mine. My eyes flutter closed and for once my hands don't look for my hair to pull, but for her hair to hold. But when I bring my hands up, there is no hair to hold. There's no Eleanor at all when my eyes open.

I feel dizzy, and my world feels as though it's spinning. Without so much as a warning my body falls back to the ground behind me, and in the darkening sky I feel my consciousness become lost in nothingness.

And that's all I want, now.