So, I'm finally posting this work after a lot of time debating it's content. This is a heavy trigger warning story, as it includes SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, HEAVY SMUT SCENES, AND SWEARING. If you're of the feint heart, I do not suggest you continue with this work, for reasons know.
*Ben's POV*
Love is something that I cannot describe; it's like a drowning depth that falls farther, suffocatingly beautiful, and when it breaks, you're left there to bleed out and add to the sticky puddle of mascara lined tears and cast away whispers. Love is for dreamers, they'll shout, and I listen to them. You'll want to bang your fists into a beautiful antique mirror and watch the glass break into an infinite number of reflective shards. You'll watch some of them stick into your knuckles and feel the crimson flow creep it's way into the grooves of your clenched fist, staining your palms that you oh so desperately wanted to wash away the memories of. That blood signifies your acceptance, as well as a bittersweet reminder of the lingering effects. Some things never go away, and will stick with you until you're eyes shut for the very last time.
Never mind. I don't know why I write anyway, it's pure shit. She even said so, before stomping out of my fucking disgusting apartment, she told me that, too. I can't get away from her, she owned my heart, twisted it in her long fingers, until it stopped beating. Oh, Gwendoline.
Now I'm standing here, with my fucking noose, and... Fuck.
I have to do it, I have nothing left. There is only emptiness, suffering, and tears. I can't remember the last time I went a full day without crying.
It's pathetic.
That's why I'm just done. Gwendoline did her job, and now she's off with Hux. I should have realized it from the start.
I'm psychotic, delusional, an emotional, depressed, fucking wreck.
So that's why. As if I even needed to justify myself. That's why I'll be gone. Soon.
"FUCK!" Long, estranged yells. I don't care who hears me now.
So close
To
Being free.
It hurts so bad, my neck, it aches. The shortage of breath.. There.. Isn't enough air.
I need that oxygen flow, I want it back. Such.. A bad.. Idea
Blurry... Vision. A faint knocking sound. The blood rushing in my ears.. This is it.
Come to think of it, the need for air is almost arousing. Not quite.
Ben... Ben... No, Ben, that voice, I can't recall...
Disgusting
It's who I am
No more struggling... I can breath. I'm dead. Finally.
Why am I crying?
And my throat burns, my head pounds. Such horrible pain. My body heaves for air, presumably adjusting to death.
Two unknown arms cradled my shirtless form, and I decided they had to be angels. That's doubtful, I'm a natural born sinner.
"Ben, wake up!"
I am. I'm dead.
"BEN WAKE UP"
My eyes flew open, tears streaming down my rigid face as a hand caresses my arm. Shaking, I was literally convulsing.
"Ben, sit up."
A cold, wet rag was placed to my forehead, leaking cold drips that battled my steamy tears for dominance.
Rey? My... Neighbor...
No
No
No
No
No
No
"I want to die! LET ME FUCKING DIE, LET ME GO,"
Her frail self still rocks mine, and warm tears roll down her cheeks. She doesn't know me. Why does she care? WHY CANT I JUST DIE?
"It's not time for you, Ben. Just... Stay here. Don't move. I'm calling an ambulance," Rey stood up, and my body felt so utterly cold.
"No! Come back, don't call, please don't call, Rey," My voice. It's cracked and pathetic, I can barely speak. My throat still throbs in an unforgettable pain.
"Alright. I won't tell anybody, I promise. Here, let's get you up on the couch," She helped my weak form off the floor, and onto the old worn sofa.
The blanket was draped across my shoulders, giving me a small amount of warmth. Gwendoline would have loved seeing this, she would laugh, call me a weak little boy, and stomp...
"Ben, I know you don't know me... But, if you want me to, I'll stay here a few hours to make sure your alright. Get some sleep," She spoke with a bit of a shaky tone. It's probably not every day she stops her neighbors from ending their lives. Although, she seemed pretty skilled at it.
"If you have obligations, then by all means, go take care of them," my voice betrayed my heart. Stay here, fuck, just don't go.
"No, no, my boss will definitely understand. I'll stay here for a while. I'm not much company, but you should probably sleep anyway," her voice was awkwardly lulling me to sleep, and the heavy pull of my eyelids couldn't be resisted.
"Thank you,"
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