Left Behind
He's gone.
Left.
Me.
Why did he run? After everything I've done! He's gone.
Forever.
My hands clasp and unclasp in anger.
If only he was here.
I could strangle him
At least punch him.
Hurt him in anyway.
If only I could make him realize how much he hurt me.
All these years I had lusted after him, given him every thought of everyday.
To have it wasted.
All in one moment.
When the door slammed.
How hard it is to not throw a tantrum, my fingernails biting into my palm. To destroy
something, just hurt it, just ruin it.
Totally against my peaceful objectives.
Totally against who I am.
Totally necessary as well.
I grab a photo of him. How many days were spent looking at this picture? How many times
have I kissed it, touched it? How many tears has it seen?
I don't know.
It's a beautiful picture of him, the light capturing him just so. It made him look so
lonely, mysterious, secretive, dark, yet needy.
I thought I had the key to his secrets.
The answers to the mysteries.
The light for the dark.
The company for the loneliness.
But I have none.
Not one.
With barely suppressed anger I rip the picture to bits, savoring the sound to tearing and
reveling in the thought that this could be him.
I want to hurt his so badly.
I want him.
Looking out the window my longing comes back. Every evening was spent here dreaming. Each
day my fantasy grew.
It stared out as a simple romance. Heero finally admitting he loves me.
From there it took its own course and evolved. It became a giant ball rolling faster and
faster, growing the whole way. It grew until reality meshed and my need was unbearable.
If only it were a reality.
But fantasies are always better than the real thing.
Heero crushed that ball, my months of dreaming, and left me. Alone with nothing. No
dreams, fantasy, note, garment
I've nothing to remember him of.
Tears of frustration squeeze out the corners of my eyes.
Not even a picture.
Wretched sobs rack my body as I throw my pillow across the room. They were right, those
voices in my head. I really am helpless.
Hot tears of rage turn into the floods of sadness and self pity. They flood the world that
is my face. Gallons of tears come cleansing me as well as they can, until I can no longer
see clearly.
Hiccuping from the residing tears I reach for the one thing I can trust.
My diary.
It alone cannot betray me.
It alone will listen.
Shakily my hand picks up a pen and writes in Dear Diary, More sobs over take
me and instead of writing a new entrée I flip to the lst one I wrote, just yesterday.
Dear Diary,
Heero actually seems like he's opening up to me. I think I should finally move in.
All this time seems like it's finally paid off. Heero must return the feelings I feel
for him, he must! I think I will tell him, It's not like he can't tell anyway.
But Diary I'm so nervous! This is harder than arguing for peace. Wish me luck I hope
I can do it.
Relena
How ironic that I had the courage but not the response.
He left me behind.
Here, alone.
After looking at me in shock.
Horror.
Mocking me, as if saying Why would I love you?
The world around me is crumbling, colapsing. I'm no longer stable, for my reality is
no longer stable. The dream world was roughly torn from my reality today leaving holes.
I've done my part.
Peace is here.
I've accomplished my goal.
Heero knows I love him.
Its time to pass on.
My turns up.
I pen into my diary:
Heero left out the door. I probably severly misjudged his feelings towards me. But I
forgive him. It was my fault for thinking anything of the sort. But I've nothing more
to live for, and so this is to be my last entrée.
Relena
There really is one thing Heero left behind.
His gun.
He thought that there would not be another use for it, so gave it to me. As his pledge to
never kill again.
He wont have to kill.
Handling the smooth shiny surface I can remember Heero's old smell of gunpowder.
I hold the gun to my temple, gulping out of nervousness. Do I have the courage to do this?
Of course I do.
Pressing the trigger, the door bursts open to Heero himself. Relena I've-
He pauses realizing what is going on, and quickly rushes over to me.
But he's too late.
The guns final bullet is used.
It has taken another victim.
One out of hundreds.
But this victim was already a victim before.
A victim of love.
My crumpling body lands in his arms.
He doesn't even cry at the time of my death.
He just holds me close whispering, Don't leave me behind.
And somehow, somewhere, there is another gunshot.
I guess that wasn't the guns final bullet after all.