I wrote this when I was really tired.
This might be an actual story, might be a one shot. tell me if you want it to be an actual story Through reviews and PMs. This is an edited chapter.
Stab
I ran out of the hospital.
That girl on the bed wasn't Ally. It couldn't be. It just wasn't.
Austin Monica Moon. The boy who refused to accept the cruel truth, the boy who burst out of the hospital when the doctors forced him out of the room with the machines, the medicine, the nurse, and Ally.
Everybody had tried to tell him, but they didn't believe him. They said that Ally was dead.
She. Died. From. Injuries. From. Her. Stab. When. She. Was. Kidnapped. Every word was a stab to my chest. Allyson. Stab. Melody. Stab. Dawson. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.
He ran to a dark ally. It suited his mood. He sat and sobbed, hugging his knees, rocking back and forth like a senile grandma. His gaze fell upon a kitchen knife next to the nearby door. He walked over and clutched the weapon, heart pounding, hand shaking. Stab. Stab. Stab. Not metaphorically, physically.
Stab. Stab. Stab. Every stab Ally had endured, I would endure. I wanted to go through the same path Ally did. Maybe then I would find her again. Maybe then I'd be reunited with her.
He was determined. Set. He thrust, pulled. The once silver knife was now dark red, sticky and dripping. He didn't stop. He would keep going till he saw Ally.
There was a flaw in my plan. A boy and girl around my age saw me. They ran over. Tried to pry the knife out of my hand. I pushed them away. Stab. Stab. Stab.
The girl pulled out a cell phone and called the police while the boy still wrestled him for the knife. These two didn't understand his situation, his goal, his plan. They weren't going to come between Austin and Ally.
Stab. Stab. Stab. That was my only thought as I succumbed to the darkness. Throughout the call, the sirens, the yelling, I kept going, ignoring the blood. I needed to reach Ally. My songwriter, my music partner, my best friend, my crush, my love.