Here is my little 1000-word 'drabble', heh.
Written for SilhouettedStarlight21 who wanted a 'red wine' drabble for her story Because of Jacob Black.
I've never tried anything like this before so I thought I'd give it a shot.
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I reach for the bottles. I'm ending this tonight.
Jacob. Jacob will pretend to care, pretend to be upset. Ha. This is his fault. He did this to me. He pretended to love me. Always a selfish boy; always wanting both. Not able to stay away from his imprint, but not wanting to let go of me, either. I should have ended this before it began; as soon as Bella invaded my hometown. But I didn't and now I'm pregnant. If I don't end this now, I'm never going to get out because in the end, I know who he will choose.
I screw the cap off of the slender glass bottle and take a deep swig of the liquid burgundy. So refreshing. I drink and I drink, always wanting more. It's never enough; I'm finished before I begin. I look down to see six empty bottles staring up at me, mocking my pain. I kick them. Pick them up and shatter them against the wall.
My body is aching. The alcohol isn't enough. Every part of me hurts. I want to throw up but the desire to preserve my drunken stupor overpowers the urge to pummel myself in the stomach. My head is throbbing and my limbs are heavy but the pain undulating throughout my body is nothing compared to the razor running beneath my chest. I grab a piece of jagged glass and slide it across the soft skin of my wrist, trying to create a distraction. It doesn't work. My veins are numb and I fall to the ground in a slump amongst the shards of broken glass.
Warm, solid hands are around me, gripping my waist and pulling me to my feet.
"Leah," he murmurs, brushing his thumb across my wound. He leads me to the bed and walks into the bathroom to fetch a rag. I can feel the tears falling down my face when he returns. He wraps my wrist in the soft cloth and envelops me in his arms. I want to push him away -I need to end this!- but he's stroking my hair and it feels so good.
He moves us to the top of the bed and lies down, pulling me next to him. I curl against his chest and inhale his musky scent. He kisses the top of my head and I look up, meeting his gaze-- his sweet, black eyes are filled with so many emotions but the pain is most profound. He brushes my cheeks with his fingers, wiping away the tears that continue to fall. He leans down and kisses me; a soft, slow kiss that momentarily erases all of the pain. I revel in this newfound comfort until I remember that it isn't going to last, that he is going to leave; just like he always has.
"I love you," he whispers. I shove him away with a force that makes my wrist throb. I scream and crumple back down to the mattress, holding my stinging wrist and feeling the fresh blood seeping out. I bury my face in the pillow and cry, unable to protest as Jacob gently re-covers my open injury and cradles me against his warm body. Unable to pull away because now he is crying too.
"I love you, Leah," he murmurs against my ear. I try to shove but his grip around me is too strong. "I'll always love you." He's sobbing now. The razor beneath my chest cuts again. Why won't he stop hurting me? He's holding me like a vice against himself and all I can do is close my eyes and pretend he isn't here.
The hours pass. I peek around Jacob's arm and see the sky beginning to grey with the first light of dawn. I wonder if he is asleep and I move to check. His arms tighten around me as soon as I begin to stir.
"Jacob," I groan. But he isn't letting go. He runs his fingers through my messy hair and I look up. His eyes are solemn and rimmed with red.
"Our baby, Leah," he whispers. I frown. He doesn't care. I push him away and this time he lets me. I sigh and roll to the floor.
"Leave, Jacob. Please," I beg, walking over to the glistening pile of glass and red. I bend down and begin to gather the pieces in my hands. This night never happened.
"You're so selfish, Leah," he says quietly from his spot on the bed. I turn to glare, resisting the urge to chuck a broken bottle at his face. He shrugs and stands up, heading for the door.
"I'll send Seth to look after you," he mumbles before exiting the bedroom. I hear his footsteps trodding down the stairs and wipe furiously at the tears springing to my eyes. I drop the glass to the floor and force my legs to move toward the bed, flopping down on Jacob's side and curling up in the heat that is still radiating off of the sheets once I get there. I wrap my arms around the pillow that still smells like him and wonder if there will ever be enough red wine in the world to take this all away.
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Well, there you have it. Reviews are always appreciated but I'm not going to demand them, especially for something like this (definitely not my best work- I'm not used to writing in this tense). Personally, I think it's rude for someone to keep mum about a story they enjoy. But that's just me. I always make a point of showing appreciation where appreciation is due.