Title: Crimson Tears
Author: Invision
Rating: R (dark content)
Spoilers: "The Pilot"
Summary: Yet another sad depressing story. I promise, after this story I'll stop. No more sad stories... maybe. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I wish I did. I also wish I could make some money off of this, but I'm not. *sigh*
Notes: Once again, thanx liz_z for beta-ing this. Ya know, you should be an english teacher.
Crimson Tears
I was going to take some pills, but then I notice the knives on the kitchen counter. I pull one from the wooden holder. A long, sharp one. It's the biggest knife I have. I hold it up to the light. It gleams with an evil smile. "You can't do it," the voice whispers, "you're too scared. Just put the knife down and go back to bed. No one will ever know."
I almost put it down. I almost slide the knife back in its place and crawl back to bed. Almost.
Instead, I put the knife against my left wrist. I feel the cool blade slide across my warm skin. It isn't a very deep incision. I'm just testing it. I want to see what it is going to feel like. I want to see what my blood looks like on the clean shining knife. There's only a thin line of red across the skin. I put the blade against my skin once more. This time it's deeper. The blood runs down into my hand. It's so red, so bright, so warm. It's almost beautiful. I put my arm down in front of me.
Drip...drip...drip. I listen to the sound of my blood hitting the floor. Little drops of crimson that make a soft sound as they fall onto the floor in dime size splatters. They look like tears. Crimson tears for a wasted life. My heart begins to beat faster. I'm sick of feeling its constant reminder of life in my chest. I want it to stop.
I'm sick of being a slave. I'm sick of being an experiment. I'm sick of being some toy that can be shown off. I know it's all my fault. It's my fault for being a thief. It's my fault for getting caught and being thrown in jail. It's my fault for accepting my brother's offer. The only thing that is not my fault is being alive. That's Kevin's fault. Why did you have to push me out of the way, Kevin? I would have died back at that lab. That guy would have shot me and I would have died. I would have been spared my daily torture. I would have been free. That's all I want. I just want to be free. I will be. In just a few minutes I will be truly free. It feels so good to finally be able to say that.
I put the blade against my bloody wrist one more time. This time I press down as hard as I can. I put my back against the wall and I slide down until I hit the ground. I'm crying. They're not tears of sadness, they're tears of joy. I put the knife against my other wrist and press down. I don't press down as hard this time. I don't have the strength. I watch as the dark blood flows. I hear the knife clatter on the ground as it slips from my grasp. My vision is becoming blurry and my hearing is growing dull. I'm so tired. I feel my heart slow. I fall onto the ground surrounded by a puddle of my crimson tears.
I'm free.
~The End~