Hi guys! I know, I just stopped writing my other stories with no notice. I'm sorry. I just got completely sidetracked. I might not ever get around to finishing them, but I might try? Anyways, this is my newest story. Yes, I WILL be completing this one, thank you very much. Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, although if I did it probably wouldn't be allowed to air on Fox. So yeah :) Reviews make me smile!
She stands there, alone.
The only sound she hears is her pulse, ringing loudly in her ears.
She stares in the mirror, not recognizing the person staring back at her.
Her hair, once a beautiful sea of auburn, now looks dull and limp. Her eyes have sunken into her face, and lost their brilliant shade of blue. They now stare blankly ahead, surrounded by dark circles that reach her cheekbones. Her skin is translucent and covered in bruises lining the whole of her body. Her entire body is fragile and malnourished, giving the impression that she could literally break at any moment.
None of that matters to her; She is already broken on the inside.
She rarely eats. Her cabinets are bare; What is left in them is covered by a thin layer of dust. She refuses to eat unless absolutely necessary. She prefers to nurse a bottle of wine until her vision is blurred and she can't feel the pain anymore. At night, she lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and soaking her pillow as the tears cascade down her cheeks. Her rare moments of sleep are always plagued with vivid nightmares. She is barely hanging on to life anymore. Death is always just a few steps behind her, beckoning her to join. She doesn't know how much longer she can fight.
Because who wants to fight when the only person worth fighting for is gone?
He lies on the ground, wishing unconsciousness would pull him under.
The only sound he hears is his pulse, throbbing continuously throughout his body.
Every inch of him aches, and his breathing is labored and short.
His clothes are stained with his blood, some dried, some fresh. His hair is matted to his head by sweat. He has bruises covering the entirety of his body. He is too weak to stand, and instead lies in a crumpled position on the ground, letting out an occasional moan of pain ever so often.
He hasn't seen the light of day in months. He can't remember what the outside looks like, he can't remember what his own apartment looks like. The only thing he remembers is her.
He remembers everything about her. The way she looks, the way she smells, the way her eyes light up as she's standing over the forensic platform. She is the only thing keeping him attached to the real world. She is the only thing he is fighting for.
Because who wants to give up when the one person worth fighting for will always be waiting for you?