If I don't want to - S.M.

9 | A Long Missed Kiss

Shawn

Please have mercy on me
Take it easy on my heart
Even though
you don't mean to hurt me
You keep tearing me apart

Would you please have mercy on me
I'm a puppet on your string
and even though
you got good intentions
I need you to set me free

I'm begging you for mercy, mercy

Ooh, I'm begging you,

I'm begging

you

I put my guitar down on its stand and excused myself to the bathroom. I splashed cold water to my face, trying to untangle my thoughts. I put my hands on each side of the sink and looked up to the mirror.

How, how could she say it to me?

She came back after three years of her death, asked me to erase her off my brain and asked me to find someone new.

How would I do that?

If it's that easy I would've done it 3 years ago, or I would've left her when she got the sentence. She wouldn't be here, trapped in this complicated world for I still mourn on her.

I wouldn't be messed and cry on my knees all day, got forced to meet psychiatrists every now and then, making all people around me worried.

It kills me.

That's why I can't quit.

That's why it's so hard for me. She brought me up, then she turned my life upside down. And now, I'm fucked up.

I drowned in my thought before Andrew break into the bathroom,
"Hey, Shawn, you okay, mate?" His voice raised, sounded shocked and concerned, "Oh no, Shawn, your hand," his fingers pointed at my hand.

I lifted my hand and faced the knuckles my sight. The right one was bleeding. I looked back to the mirror behind me, and it was cracked on its edge.

"I'm okay. Don't worry, Andrew," I sighed looking at him before looking down at the floor.

"How could I not worried if you scream out loud and I found you bleeding with the mirror broke into pieces, Shawn? What happened man?" He frowned, sympathy painted on his face.

"I... I don't know," I failed to come up with a sensible reason.

"Come on, let's get your hand cleaned and put a bandage on it," he said heading out of the bathroom.

I run the water through my hand. I now can feel the cut stings, making my body flinch. I turned off the faucet, swang my hand a couple of times to get rid of the water.

I got back to the rehearsal room, resting my back on the sofa with my closed eyes. I took a long sigh.

Andrew came through the door with bandage and antiseptic on each of his hand.

"No medicine, please, it hurts," I drew my hand from my lap to my chest.

"You're kidding, Shawn," he laughed and still insisted to put the medicine on my cuts, "You started it, finish it like a gentleman."