ONE:
THE END . . . OR AT LEAST THAT WAS THE PLAN
So this is it. This is where it all gets you in the end. My grandmother was right. Love is just death disguised by tainted emotions and an internal obsession to keep "US" alive. . .
This was the state of mind. The last few words I could barely combine into whole comprehendible sentences, a bottle of some random label vodka in one hand and a revolver in my spare right. I'd always contemplated suicide from the very beginning. From the first night I found myself alone and with the undisputable knowing that he was never coming back. He would walk this earth just the same, but I would never see him again, would never hear him close enough to where his voice simulated the sound of sirens singing from someplace - heaven maybe, if it even existed. Would never ever feel him again, the warmth of his body. The feel of his velvet touch . . .
His name will remain Allen Desdemona.Try and remember because it is the only key you will ever need to remotely relate to any of this. . . MAY 1ST 2009. Remember the date.It's the day that signified a chance of a new, happier, life. And it's the day that sealed the end of my own. . . I can almost see it again now . . . the unpleasantly humid sunny Florida afternoon. It's nearly five-Thirty . . . I walk up The black paved driveway of The house, passing an alignment of white cobble stones just before the door is opening, and I can see his face for The very first Time. . . If there was only someway I could have stayed There and Then, in that moment forever. So perfect, carefree, emotionless . . . no strings attached yet. But since it could never be realistically possible, all I was fueled on was the memory. I had let it suffocate me, drowning in it day after day.
My head was pounding. How much did I drink? Who cares, I quickly followed up with the answer to my own question. It was sometime late. The night in the woods of the Hoh forest, just outside of Forks was nothing like Miami and I was grateful for that. Most people I know would reject things like dark, cold, and wet. But I all too happily welcomed it. Here leaned against a gangly pine's trunk just at the flowing river's edge I could die in peace. For once content. No one would hear the shot blast. Someone would find me, but I'd made sure my family would never come to receive word of the news. They would just think I finally had lost the little sanity I'd been clinging to and never see me again. Regardless, they would still be right.
Low, tired sobs and streaming tears were pouring out of me as I reached in the back pocket of my jeans to retrieve my wallet letting it flop open, and setting it down at my side so I could stare at his picture. That was my Allen . . . I didn't know the one that existed now, not anymore. I reached for the bottle secured in between my two legs and chugged another few swigs. I remember raising it up and trying to figure how much venom was left but I'd drank enough that my vision was nearly a total blur, the moon's bright white blinding me as it shined through the clear glass, and my body was numb to any form of feeling besides the occasional extra chilled gusts of wind.
Slowly, I was slipping away, barely even managing the twitch of a finger. My legs were already a lost cause, the official equivalent to disabled . . . Yes. It was time now . . . I brought the revolver up into my mouth, flicking back the hammer all while some barely audible sobs still escaped me. . . God please forgive me . . . Allen. My angel . . . With one feeble finger I pulled the trigger and in the same blast - in the same moment I should have been dead – I was still breathing, still living . . . and empty handed . . . But what had gone wrong. As much as I hallucinated while intoxicated routinely, I knew this was real. And as inane and sufficiently fucked in the head as I was, that gunshot blast had not been just a figment of my imagination. My heart was hammering, like it was trying to break through my chest and runaway as fast as it could. Who could blame it? No. No . . . This had been real. It still was . . . I still was. . .
"Hello young one." A male voice came. And I remember my head falling sideways. Through fogged vision I could make out the angel. Beautiful – an understatement. Pale creamy white skin, perfect gold blond hair, evenly trimmed. Perfect face . . . perfect honey colored eyes . . . perfect soft pink lips. And this all clear enough still just from a distance . . . I'd been wrong. I must have been dead in order for this angel to be in fact in my presence. So was God forgiving me for my selfish act of escape . . . maybe . . . Then again, with all the shit I'd pulled, not much likely. This must be one of those angels that lure you down to hell with there unimaginable beauty. Still, I remember smiling at him. And I remember the timid smile he'd flashed back. One of those Trying to make you feel at ease but I'm still concerned types.
I felt for the bottle still in between my legs and brought it up to view, but before I could quench my thirst for the poison one last time, it was no longer in my possession and the angel stood half crouched over me. I smiled again . . . "So beautiful . . . angel", I strained, because I had to let him know. He smiled that warm, welcoming, precautious smile again . . . "There, there", his voice came in an enchanting echo, before I felt myself all of a sudden pressed against his chest, being carried away. "You're going to be alright little one." With his voice even closer now, I forgot the pain. Forgot my pounding head and aching limbs . . . forgot to breathe before I opened my eyes to swirling dark smudges and it all went black.
OK guys, This Story will be slow in progress so please give it a chance. It is also my first Fan Fiction so please if possible give me some reviews, I always welcome constructive criticism. Hopefully if you're reading This you will enjoy (Fingers crossed) :D