Old Short Stories

them

It was cold. They came to find. In that bathroom.

Looking in that mirror, only seeing flaws.

Words came to mind to describe them.

But, they spoke these words before and were brushed off as a joke, so the words would stay on the tip of their tounge, trapped behind sharp teeth and bleeding lips.

No, they would not tell.

These where their words.

While they were trapped inside the prison of their own eyes, which lead to the hell of their brain, a tear formed.

And freed itself.

And rolled.

And fell.

Hitting the sink with a sound so quiet, it shouldn't be heard.

But they heard.

Over their own shalkow breathing, the tear was heard.

The owner of the tear said nothing.

But they looked up into the mirror, and their empty head filled with dying fantasies.

A common one came up.

Ripping off their own jaw.

That would keep the lying at bay, and for once they would shut up.

Unsteady, shaking hands moved slowly, and strong but small fingers made their way to latch beihind teeth.

More tears fell.

And they pulled.

And pulled.

And pulled.

But their jaw held steady.

Only the corners of their mouth ripped, and had begin to bleed.

The body sighed. And a hand wiped the mouth.

No, this body was not theirs.

They stole it from somebody who deserved it.

They, did not.

All the thoughts stopped. As unmatched eyes glanced into the mirror once again.

Tears didn't stop, they kept slipping free to make up for the ones that had been trapped for one year, two months and four days.

The body lifted an arm, and then a hand to the arm.

Sharp nails met the tender flesh of the wrist.

They scratched.

And scratched.

Until the flesh was red, and the blue veins underneath were no longer visible.

They could've kept going, but with a blade.

They didn't, knlwing that the amount of self control to stay breathing wasn't there.

So they took a step back, and with one last longing glance, left the bathroom.

Into a hallway just a little to dark.

A dining room no one sat in anymore into a kitchen.

A living room that felt so dead.

Up stairs so steep.

Into a hallway.

And then, into a room.

The body fell onto a bed. Stuck there.

While the mind stayed in that bathroom.

Wondering how things could've ended differently this night.

Or any night before.

But they had responsibilities.

To protect their loved ones and their friends.

Even if it killed them along the way.

The hands stained with their own blood would not be their own until everybody was safe and happy.

But not themselves.

No, they cried.

At the loss of how to be happy.

With the loss of their loved.

They had failed to protect her from the single evil.

She was hurt now.

But still so, so beautiful.

They loved her.

But not themselves.

No, they lost hope in this mind and this body so long ago.

It was cold, they came to find, with this mind.