Disclaimer: I don't own it. Not Leah, not Sam, not the vaguely mentioned Emily. I don't own the bands mentioned, the MGMT lyrics hinted at, or the Stars lyrics inserted. If you can find them I'll be pretty impressed though. I do own the phrases, my computer, and a tray of (fake) money.
My writing tends to confuse people – a lot. So here's the down low, in advance. You can thank me later.
Leah's found her way out, and this time she's going through with it. Ironically taking a leaf out of Bella's book: cliff diving's the way to go. Unlike Bella, she doesn't have a Jacob waiting in the wings.
Like a painted poison, these words etch into my soul. Long forgotten lyrics flow, Cheap Trick. Blasting from a car radio, hot summers day. Ice-cream drips down your fingers, sneaking towards crappy carpet upholstery. I itch with your presence, suddenly a sugar addict. Swollen with need, tantalizing torture.
You see? I remember all. You still own that shirt, from that day. Psychedelic Furs. The very reason I love the band. It hides, frightened of light after all this time, at the bottom of your cupboard, lost in the stormy seas. Crisp shirts hang on a rack, your new red tie waiting to be worn. This was your mothers doing, but shhh, nobody knows. Seeing red, flushed. Intertwined.
You smile and it aches, it hurts. She beams back, radiant, and I cringe. You pretend not to notice. They pretend not to notice, but I know anyway. Dogs, the lot of you. Remember? Don't you remember? You promised, Sam. You promised. I should have realized then, saved all this pain, this hardness. I'll never hurt you. Well, I keep my promises. Can't you see it's the only way out of this mess? I remember all.
It won't be like before, like last time. That was a mistake, I admit it. I've been thorough this time, I've learnt. I learnt a lot from you. How to love, how to whisper above the rain, how to hold hands under desks, swapping secretive smiles. How to sneak out, how to roll a joint, how to lie. How to hate.
How to cover your tracks. So it's not your fault. Know that. If you know anything, know that. Go home to her; take her in your arms. So warm, so comforting. No tears will come, and you feel guilt for that, but all you think is "Not her. Thank God it wasn't her."
Fuck you God.
Sorry. That's not my purpose. No guilt. Ecstatic freedom runs through my veins, shock to the system. Happiness? Maybe not. Danger. A first touch with a lover, everything is too extreme. There is nothing shy here, nothing like you. His hands are rough, wanting, needing.
I needed you once. Maybe I still do, but that's all a different story. I'm sick of mincing these words, pretending. I fight fate. The bodies twist around me, and I chase them. You falter; I see your wires. Puppets on strings. Stop trying to hide. Sharp pain, hooks bind my back; gasping for air. Breathe. It's over Sam, don't you see? I've found my scissors.
My face is hard now, plastic like a doll's. A marionette's. Painted beauty, trapped. This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin, marring. SALE, the neon sign will say. Damaged goods – blowout clearance. I go to a child to play dress up for eternity.
Eventually, the child will move on, and I will be thrown into the dark, dank closet. The other dolls laugh at me, jeering. Their picture perfect smirks cannot hide the mocking cruelty that flickers in their eyes. My limbs are stiff, splayed. Face down, I slump. This is how you left me, broken.
So this is how you'll find me. The time has come, the electricity in the air calls to me. I hear you howl, a distant celebration in the night sky, you are unaware. Or are you? Celebratory, I howl back.
Cheers. And on the count of three, we jump. See you later, talk to you later - these are lies. Good bye. You will remember all.
One, two, three.
Let me know what you thought. Leave some love, hate, or anything in between.
How do you want to die?