Crepuscular

Crepuscular - Part 3

Author's Note

Hello!

This is a grave warning... do not read this if you are not ready to be faced with depressing thoughts and/or actions. This story is based on Bon Iver's song, Skinny Love but the main story is mine. Please listen to Birdy's cover of Skinny Love too :)

Ok, now for the non-serious part. I am NOT a depressed person, I just have a vivid imagination... I think ^^ I should be posting another short story soon. This time it will be called You Found Me. Yes, there is the common theme of songs haha.

Thanks guys,

HopeSilver

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Skinny Love

She fingered the blade with her fingers, running them over the sharp edge of the razor. Would it help? Would she finally feel better? The girl gazed up at the mirror, holding the razor, clutching it against her chest. It would just be a small prick as it sliced across skin. There would be blood but the pain would satisfy. The pain would rid any other worries she had. They would all be gone.

Like him.

The girl shook her head. She couldn't think of him. It hurt too much. That was why she was in this position, why she had the blade ready to cut her wrist. The girl looked at the mirror once again, staring into the grimy reflective surface. No one loves me. No one wants to stop me. I don't mean anything to them. Her eyebrows furrowed as her hand shook. She wasn't ready for this. Her veins felt like liquid ice, causing her to stand paralysed on the spot. She looked back into her cobalt eyes which were reflected in the mirror. They were large and red. Red from the tears. Her dark hair was a mess, chestnut strands wet and tangled. 

But maybe the mess could be sorted out. Maybe the two could overcome the bad times. Maybe they could pull through. 

But that was ridiculous. 

He was gone.

Never coming back.

At least, she thought so.

The girl took one last shaky breath, a nervous giggle escaping her pale lips. She rested the razor against her translucent skin, feeling it's sharp blade dig into her flesh. The girl lent over the sink and inhaled deeply. Then she sliced. She drew the blade across her arm, choking slightly as excruciating pain overwhelmed her. This was what she wanted. This was good. A high pitched laugh rang out, short and sharp. She continued to laugh as she felt the joy of her troubles drifting away. 

Droplets of blood streamed down her arm, dripping onto the white porcelain of the sink. The bright red stains contrasted against the ivory, like stripes on a zebra, except, these strips were blood.

The girl gripped the side of the basin, steadying herself. She gazed into the mirror at her crazed face, full of excitement, fear and pain. She should have stopped. She should. But she didn’t.

As she sliced again a memory came back to her, the world around her disappearing.

They brushed past each other, words stumbling as they tried to apologize. Neither could deny the spark they felt, the jolt of electricity when they touched. The girl blushed, tucking some hair behind her ear. The boy thrusted out his hand nervously, a crooked smile growing on his lips. She stared at his palm, equally as uneasy. They shook hands and smiled but glanced away as their eyes met. He muttered his name and quickly left, leaving the girl stunned but gleeful.

Another memory came just as quickly as the previous finished.

It was a secret, only one they would hold. Their panting filled the hollow, cold room, an ominous sound in the desolate area. She had kissed him. He had kissed her. They had finally admitted how they felt. She took his face in her small hands, standing on tip toes to reach his lips. They were sweet, soft, warm. They were everything she imagined. He was the only thing she wanted. If the world around her died tomorrow but he was still with her, she would be fine. If she had to get her nails pulled out and all the bones in her body snapped, just to save him, she would. And he would do the same for her.

A stray tear rolled down her face, not from the physical pain - she delighted in that - but from the emotional pain. From the loss she had suffered.

"Just cut it. Ok? I can't keep doing this. I'm sorry but... but... I don't think I can keep going."

"Just wait!" She pleaded, grabbing his arm, her fingers cold on his bicep. "Come on, we can last. Just try, just persist. We can make this last. Forget about the bad, forget we were even here."

"How can I?" he argued, snapping at his lover. "I don't know what happened but I know this can't last." He put his head in his palms, sighing.

The girl looked around them, at the broken tables and shattered glass. She ogled at the shredded curtains, a result of his anger. She had done nothing wrong, neither of them had. If anyone was to take the blame it would be fate. Tears welled in her eyes, causing her vision of him to blur. She was truly sorry but he wouldn't listen. She loved him but he didn't understand. They just felt more depressed, day by day. They felt more melancholy than happy. They argued, they fought, they screamed at each other. Neither could bear it any more. But she wanted to make it work. 

"Please don't leave!" Her voice broke on the last sentance as he started to move away from her. A mangled sob echoed throughout the room as he grabbed his bags and left. 

Would she see him again?

The girl sliced her arm again but this time she had gone too far. Blood spilled like a waterfall, drenching her arm in a coat of red. Alarmed, she shouted out though no one could hear her. She rummaged in the cupboards, grabbing a bandage and wrapping it around her arm. The blood still seemed to seep through but her attention was focused on cleaning up the sink. She stared at the blood which stained it. It would be a difficult feat, it wouldn't clean immediately. The girl reached for the bleach but her head spun as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. She had lost too much blood.

She collapsed to the floor, her eyes fluttering closed as black dotts spotted her vision. At that moment the boy ran into the house, regretting his decision to leave her. The house was filled with a foreboding silence and though he had nothing to worry about, he suddenly felt very cold. He cautiously made his way to her room, calling out her name. She never replied and he started to fret. Was she alright? She was probably just upset. She would be fine. Wouldn't she?

He trudged into her room, an eerie feeling washing over him. He brushed it off and continued walking to where he found her en suit bathroom. The door was closed but fortunately unlocked. He pushed it slightly and froze. 

She was on the floor, in a pool of blood. He rushed to her side, shaking her slightly.

"Please, please wake up," he whispered. Tears formed in his eyes and he drew back his trembling hand, his fingers stained red. He glanced at the sink in which a broken razor lay. His eyes flicked back to the bandage on her arm and the slits she must have made. He ran his clean hand through his hair, breaking, crushing as he looked at his lover. "You'll be fine. I now it. Don't let me break. Please. Just wake up. You'll pull through."

He lifted her head, pulling his fingertips back as her forehead was sticky with blood. He slipped his phone out of his jean pocket, fumbling to type the number for the ambulence. 

"Someone, help. Sh-she's dying. She cut her wrists and fainted. Help. Please..."

He turned back to the girl, staring at her dark hair, fanned out around her, her pale skin, pale lips. He kissed them lightly, hoping in some way that he could bring her back. She could make it. She could pull through. But the hope inside him was slowly dying. He embraced the girl, one last and final time. 

Come on skinny love...