center stage
---
I am but a shadow, He says, silent words on his lips.
She thinks she is deaf, but when she opens her mouth to reply, she realizes her hands are planted at her ears, a fistful of hair in each hand with the ache of her scalp. A droplet, warm at first but cold as it distances itself away from home (a story eerily familiar) rolls down her flushed cheek; her face is warm and distorted into anger but her body is as cold and frigid as his heart.
Her hands drop loose; blood oozes down her legs like a parasite and she is surprised she has not given in into the temptation of a screech. Her jaw hangs still and the gaping whole in her chest is numb, but she can still feel the ache somewhere else– she feels like someone is screwing with her, (and what did I ever do to you?) because it is her end and while her heart ceases to beat for her body her heart continues to beat for him.
Sha– She coughs scarlet onto her rough hands, and her vision flashes with the dull throb of her eyes. –Shadows only exist with light.
And I am forever trapped in the spotlight of center stage, He kneels to her, and she realizes that she lays on the muddy ground. because my story never ends.
Neither mine, She whispers, the rain tapping against the high of her cheekbone.
The light follows me everywhere, and in its obviation is a signal that there is now no wrong in what cannot be seen.
Ghostly, spidery hands encircle her throat.
"Lights out, Sakura."
---
end.