Give A Little More

by Dirtiest Girl In America

I give you miles and miles and mountains, and you ask for the sea. A HEAVY warning needs to go with this, but I can't exactly say what I'm warning you of, or it will ruin the entire story. Also I wrote this in first person, so really you can decided if you want it to be from Mickey's point of view or Ian's. When I started it I had wanted it to be from Mickey, either works though.

Give A Little More

Gallickey(Mickey/Ian)
I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story. I am making no profit from it. It is purely for my enjoyment.

I do everything for you, but it's never enough. I pay for things you want. I suck you off even when I'm not in the mood. But you always want more. I can't give you everything you want; I'm not perfect.

You ask me for money so you can buy your sister something for her birthday; I give you my entire pay check. But it's not enough, you say that you won't be able to get a good enough gift.

It's late on a Tuesday night, I need to get up early in the morning. You call and tell me that you're horny; we meet in the dugout and fuck. I tell you that I absolutely have to leave; you say I don't care about you. That night I get barely an hour of sleep, and nearly miss the alarm that I had set.

You text me and tell me to buy you a carton on cigarettes. You tell me to bring them to you now. I don't have much money left, I haven't gotten paid yet, so I buy the cheapest ones. I meet you under the El; you scream at me for buying the wrong brand.

It's the middle of the afternoon, the house is empty; I pull the little orange bottle out the other cabinet in the bathroom. I swipe a beer from the fridge and pull the small, nearly dull razor from it's hiding place behind my bed. I place the three items next to me on the rumpled sheets of the bed.

I look over at the crisp, white sheet of notebook paper sitting on the table against the wall. I sigh and open up the beer. I take a swig; twist the cap off the orange bottle. There are seven pills inside. They are Xanax; used to be mom's before she left.

I swallow one after another until the bottle is empty and the beer is all gone.

A short time later I feel the pills mixing with the booze; my head is getting fuzzy.

I've got to do do it; it's now or never.

I pick up the razor; drag it across my wrist. Blood oozes out; it's so bright. It makes me think of you.

The metal is slippery; I nearly drop it as I drag it across the opposite wrist.

I can't think straight; my head is so fuzzy; my vision is blurred.

My sister finds me, it's been hours. She is shocked, she doesn't scream or cry; she just stares at me.

My skin is already cold, and tinted blue. She get's the phone and calls for an ambulance; it's pointless, she knows I'm already dead. As she waits she spots the note. She picks it up; she reads it, hoping to find an explanation as to why I did it.

I wasn't good enough.
I never will be, I can't.
You want so much.
You never gave me anything.
I loved you despite everything you'd ever done to me.
You never cared about me.
You broke me, but I stayed.
I'm not perfect, I can't be.
I can't give you everything that you want.
Go find someone who can.

It confuses her; she doesn't understand who it is written for.

The ambulance arrives; they tell her I'm already gone. She nods and says, "I know."

As the ambulance drives away with me inside my cell phone rings; she answers it. Before she can speak you do; you say, "I'm horny, meet me in the dugout."

She drops the phone. She knows who the note was written for.

She breaks down; she cries for hours.

The End.

Note To Readers-I know I need to get chapter 4 of PwA up, but I this popped into my head last night, I wrote it quick. And I needed to put it up. I couldn't keep working on 4, this kept distracting me. -Alayna