- - - Grace - - -
I took one last look around to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. No, everything was in order.
On my desk lay a note. It went something like this:
To Whoever Cares,
I have tried to get out. But I could find no way.
If you really care, then I am sorry.
Grace
Grace. What a name hey? For someone that's anything but blessed. I had really tried to find a way out. School work wasn't the answer, friends weren't the answer - I didn't have many of those - and I thought this was my only way out.
I had trouble deciding which way to do it. Pills or slitting my wrists. I thought that pills would be less painful but maybe the more gruesome way would get the message across better. Not that my parents would care. Hell, they'd probably be happy I was dead.
Actually, they probably wouldn't notice for several days. That's why I didn't put To Mom and Dad. I thought that Whoever Cares would be better. Because my parents really didn't care at all. They hadn't done anything in my best interest for more than seven years.
Seriously, the last thing I can remember them doing nice for me is taking me out for ice cream when I was eleven after I had won a baseball game. How pathetic is that?
On the back of the note I had written a poem. It wasn't copied out of a book. Poetry was another way I had tried to escape the pain. That also didn't work. The poem was like this:
Lone Tear
What have I done
That I deserve to cry?
I hold the tears back,
But it hurts to try.
Down my face,
Little drops of pain.
They'll see me cry now,
But never again.
They reach my mouth,
It's set in a frown.
I cry all alone,
I cry without sound.
More tears are coming,
And they hit the floor.
I can't stop them now,
I start to cry some more.
I am alone,
No friends to lose.
This is a cut,
A sore, a bruise.
My tears have stopped,
I'm left gulping for air.
Who would prefer
If I had died there?
(A/N: This poem was actually written by me, and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't take it!)
Maybe this would get the message through. Although I highly doubted it.
Well, I was ready. I took one last look around my room. Bed, rug, dresser, mirror. No posters, no stuffed animals. Nothing that made it homey at all.
I picked up the knife that I had placed on my dresser. At first it hurt to break the skin. Once I saw my own blood, I had an urge to plunge the knife very deeply into my arm but I decided not to. I made a cut that went from the heel of my hand and ran along one of my veins. It was about four inches long and pretty deep. If I was to live through this, I knew it would have scarred.
After I had about five cuts on my left wrist, I moved to my right one. This one was harder because I wasn't left handed. I only got to about three on that arm and I started to get really dizzy. So, I sat on the ground. I looked around and realized I was sitting in a pool of my own blood. I had an urge to throw up but I held it in.
The knife clattered to the floor. It was getting very hard to keep my eyes open. I lay in my own blood. My wrists started to gush, literally gush, blood. It ran into my black hair and onto my face. I closed my eyes so it wouldn't get in them.
My eye colour was the only thing I liked about myself so I didn't want blood on them so they were red. Hey, I know it was a stupid thought but I wasn't thinking very clearly alright? Oh, right, back to my eye colour. They were kind of a grey-green. Sometimes they'd have a hint of an almost yellow colour in them.
I loved my eyes. They were the only thing in my life I had to be proud of. Stupid, I know.
Fuzzy. Things started to get fuzzy. I knew I was losing consciousness, which probably meant that death was finally claiming me. I said a quick prayer, telling God to save my soul from the devil.
I'm not that religious but right then I felt so afraid that I'd actually go to Hell. But hey, I guess God had different things in store for me.
I could barely see my dresser anymore. The blood had soaked into the rug. Mom would sure be pissed.
Oh well.
That's when the darkness claimed me for good.
- - - Haldir - - -
I was wandering through my home. The woods of Lothlórien were beautiful. The sun was shining although it was hard to see it through the tall trees.
I had my bow slung over my back along with a quiver full of arrows. I didn't think I'd actually need them. Very rarely do we need to shoot anything in the realm of Lórien.
Suddenly, my eyes could see a smudge of black in the distance. Black is not a colour often seen in these woods. Usually things are varying shades of brown or green or blue. As I got closer I could see it was hair.
Hair? Why is there hair on the ground? Then I realized that attached to the hair was a head. Or hair attached to the head, I should say. At first I thought it was a male. It is not uncommon to see men with long hair, I should know for I have long hair myself.
It turned out to be a female. A human girl, maybe eighteen, if that. Her hair was matted to her head with what looked to be blood. I thought she was injured, but try as I may, I couldn't locate any cuts on her.
Finally, I walked right up to her and nudged her with my toe. She started to stir and in an instant I had my bow in notched and in her face. Her eyes open and she sat up. When she saw the bow her eyes widened slightly but not much.
Her eyes were really a strange colour. They had grey in them but I could also see green and something that looked to be gold. Slightly I shook my head. I decided to speak.
"What are you doing in the realm of Lothlórien? Are you friend or foe?"
- - - Grace - - -
What a pleasant awakening. A bow in my face. What a way to make a girl feel welcome, I tell you. But, I guess if I wasn't dead, which I highly doubted, it wouldn't matter if I got shot in between the eyes.
I looked up at this guy standing above me. Long, straight, blonde hair. Striking blue eyes. When I looked into them I got caught. I heard him say something and I had to mentally slap myself for getting so lost in his eyes.
I thought back on what he said. What are you doing in the realm of Lothlórien? What the Hell's Lothlórien? Are you friend or foe? Hey! You're the one with the bow in my face!
Instead of saying anything, I slowly started to stand up, hands up over my head so he'd know I didn't have a weapon and wasn't going to hurt him.
"I'm taking you to the Lady of the Wood."
Who was that? Oh well, it really didn't matter.
"I'm going to have to bind your hands." The dude started taking some kind of silver rope off of his belt. It was unlike any rope I had ever seen before.
He grabbed my wrist. Only then did I notice I still had cuts on them. Almost against my will I ripped them out of his hands. Shit, that hurt.
A quizzical look passed on his face. Then he got a good look at my wrists. He tried to cover up his shocked face but it didn't really work. I saw the look of horror that was on his face.
This time he gently took my hands in his, examining the self-inflicted wounds closely. I only then noticed how gross they actually looked. The blood had dried around the edges but they were still oozing slightly.
Ew, gross. I wouldn't want to have my hands that close to those if I were him.
Again gently he let go of one of my hands and started to pull me along by my left, and worse mutilated, arm. I could tell he was trying to be gentle but it still hurt.
All I could do was follow this guy, and hope he led me to some answers of where I was, how I got there, and why I was there.
(A/N: Okay! How was that you guys? Like the poem? This story of mine will actually have a plot, don't worry! And just in case you didn't know, the name inside the dashes is a switch in someone's point of view! Thanks for reading, and now, REVIEW!)
