A knife in the chest. The knife being twisted roughly. That's was being heart-broken must feel like, she realized. And for weeks, she felt like following the stabbing pain's path with a real knife. She even took one to her room once, before realizing she couldn't do it.
So she did the next best thing. She ignored the two who had caused her broken heart. Especially him. He had run after her, wanting to explain, but she never let him. She ran, long and hard. Eventually, he gave up and returned to the tower. She returned a day later, looking exhausted. No one asked why, because no one wanted her to be angry at them.
He especially looked guilty, she remembered, as she walked through the living room to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She remembered how she looked, too. Her cape had been wrinkled and was lopsided, and she had bloodshot eyes from crying the night before.
He had approached her slowly, she remembered. Much like a curious prey would approach it's wounded hunter. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but she held up her hand. She remembered that, too.
"Save it. I don't want to hear any lame excuses you might have." She had said. Yes, those were her exact words. She remembered how he had gaped like a fish at her as she finished making her tea and left for her room. She remembered how after that, he kept coming to her door and asking if he could talk to her. And she remembered not leaving her room for anything but more tea. She remembered not even leaving for missions.
But most of all, she remembered how hurt she had been. She remembered feeling as though her heart had been cut from her chest and stomped on that day. She remembered feeling fury towards her two "friends" and throwing him into the wall. But none of it compared to the pain she had felt, the pain she still felt.
She took it upon herself to ignore both of them, just as she ignored Beastboy. She remembered perfectly well all the times he had tried to talk to her, and all the times she had tried to talk to her. But she never listened. She remembered each exact time. 17 tries before she gave up, 83 before he finally did.
And then, she remembers how hurt he had looked when he finally gave up. He refused to train for days, and stopped eating until she forced him to eat. She remembers watching him on the roof when the rain fell, watching him step closer to the edge before stepping back and shaking his head. She remembers feeling the same way, only wanting to use a knife as death instead of a long drop from the roof.
She remembers watching him leave, shaking his head in disgust at himself. Whether from not being able to do it or from even considering the idea at all, she never knew.
She remembers watching the team drift apart, and blaming it on herself. She remembers the first time she saw Nightwing, and how determined he was to forget her. She remembers how they saved each other, and how she fell in love once again, only to have her heart ripped out again.
Now, as she sits here, preparing for her own last moments, she remembers all the pain. Just like the pain that flashes through her chest as a real knife follows the figurative one, twisting just like the figurative one. She sees it all in her last moments, the times of sadness mostly. The last thing she remembers before seeing black is the look on his face when he found out she was going to kill herself, and he couldn't stop her. She remembers the look, the defeated look that meant he was too late, as she fades away from this Earth. And she remembers the exact line the tear made down his cheek as he cried for her death.
He now felt the knife she had talked about once. How it twists in agonizing pain until all you can think about is that knife in your chest and how to make it go away. He now knew how she had felt when she saw the accident that had caused all of her pain.
He remembers the accident completely. She had tripped and landed on top of him, just as his love came in the room. He remembers following her as she ran out of the tower. He remembers giving up after an hour or two and coming back. He remembers her coming back the next day, looking disheveled and upset.
He remembers approaching her as she made her tea, but she held up a hand to keep him from talking. "Save it. I don't want to hear any lame excuses you might have." That's what he remembers hearing her say. And he remembers how it tore a small hole in his heart.
He remembers trying to apologize, day after day. He remembers the girl that caused his love this pain trying to apologize as well. She gave up after 17 tries. He kept going until the 83rd try. Then he remembers giving up.
He remembers being hurt and her stern refusal to listen to him, and her stubborn attitude to ignore him. He remembers going up to the roof and standing near the edge, gazing down. He remembers contemplating jumping off or not. He remembers taking a step forward, as if he was going to jump, then pulling himself back. And, of course, he remembers walking past her to go back inside, shaking his head in disgust for even thinking such a thing as suicide.
He remembers watching the team drift apart, knowing it was his fault because he couldn't get her to see reason. He remembers getting a new costume, and fighting crime as Nightwing, to try and get rid of her memory. He remembers seeing her once again, and feeling the pang of loss.
He remembers watching her from afar, even as he had two lives. He knew she had two as well, Rachel the bookstore owner and Darkness, the new superhero. He remembers meeting with this new superhero a few times. He remembers falling in love again.
He remembers that girl coming back and ruining things again. He remembers being tackled by her just as his one and only love appeared. He remembers watching her leaving, calling after her desperately.
He remembers how he fell into despair after that. He remembers how his business suffered, and how crime flourished. He remembers, especially, the pain of being scorned by the woman he considered his soulmate yet again. He remembers considering hanging up the cloak for good, then shaking his head in disgust yet again. Darkness had gone, and he remembers convincing himself that the city really needed him.
He remembers their last encounter, when she had mentioned suicide. He remembers how his eyes got wide and he got suspicious. He remembers watching as she purchased a jewelled knife and returned home. He remembers her sitting there, staring at the knife and seeming lost in thought. He remembers watching, not being able to move, as she stabbed herself and twisted the knife. He remembers running into the room, a single tear making a streak down his face.
Now, it's years later, and he holds that knife in his hands, the bloodstains still clearly on it. He twirls the knife in his hands, remembering everything, all the sadness and all the happiness. He closes his eyes, gripping the knife tighter, and is about to stab himself when he remembers. He remembers her smile, before she was mad at him. He remembers their bond. He remembers her love. And he smiles. The knife falls from his grasp. No blood is shed. He is content with her memory. As long as he remembers her...
Saddest story I've written yet. Probably won't be the worst, though. Don't like it too much, but oh well.
"Cuthien doesn't own the Teen Titans."
Thank you Draco. Now, where in the world did I get the idea for this story...?
"Eh, heh... stress?"
Methinks Draco had something to do with this... excuse me while I threaten the reason out of him.
"Review!" Draco flies away with me running after him shouting threats.