But I wish I was dead... everytime I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise.
I awake out of my slumber like the sun slowly taking it's time to rise into the sky and fulfill its duty. I wake in the saddening realization that I am... now awake. Do your eyes ever feel so heavy and you feel so exhausted that you can't even open them? I groan softly, turning over from my uncomfortable, cramped position and onto my belly. The morning is pleasantly silent. At least, I hope it is morning. Not really though. It doesn't matter either way.
Birds chirp outside of the window and I always feel like they hang out on the fire escape purposely. I feel like shit and thats what I've been feeling like for a long time. My body is cramped, eyelids too heavy to lift, and my chest is compact. The palace that holds hope is vacant. What stops my body, my mind, from going to sleep and not waking up for a long time? Forever? But no, instead it chooses to awaken every once in a while to remind me of the living hell that I actually exist into.
I moan. I can't go back to sleep.
"You're going to have to wake up eventually," I hear, softly. That's just the thing. I don't. Just when I finally feel myself slowly drifting back to sleep, my ears perk up to a velvety sound again.
"Bella."
I remain silent— focusing on one goal. Sleep. I'm too lazy to answer. My throat is parched and I sigh.
"What?" I croak, so small that it's barely audible. A single bird chirping outside the shut glass is louder than me. I feel him lightly slide down into the bed with me, comfortably by my side now. Just don't. Please don't. I don't want to drag you along with me.
He tugs at the hem of the blanket that I cover myself only with, so very greedily. Self-sufficient I would have called it. When I don't offer, he forcefully but gently pulls the blanket out of my grip. What comes out of me next sounds like the sound a dying whale would make.
He slips into my small, warm, world. You shouldn't be here. Stay out there. In your world.
He wraps his long arms around my fragile, idle body. I feel the strings in my chest pull in all directions and I can't breathe.
"I won't let you drown in your misery anymore," He whispers against my ear.
"You're too late. A submarine couldn't save me now," I mumble. I don't want you to feel sad. Bad. Mad. These three basic words are deeper now more than ever.
He breathes gently into my ear, hugging me in his arms and against his warm, heated body. His soft scent is the only one that I've adored in a very long time.
I finally open my eyes to the darkened but still lightened surrounding. My dear blanket coven.
I've always been miserable. In my entire life, I've never been fully happy. Just partially. Or temporarily. It's not as If I've had this horrible horror story of a life where my parents treated me like shit or something. They didn't treat me like shit— they treated me pretty normal actually. But they didn't treat me like anything special either. No one ever has— except for Edward.
He's the only one who's ever cared for me and it still surprises me and makes me wonder why he still sticks around. Sticks around me. I met him nine months on a drowsy, summer morning at Foster's Cafe Spot right across the street. Two coffees in my hands (moments away from falling to their death) and a mouth grasping a cream cheese bagel.
His cold lips press against my mouth. His fingers are embedded in my dirty hair and he sighs deeply into my mouth. I whimper, pressing my weak hands against his chest. Don't. Don't try to bring it back into me. He molds his body against mine and we are a perfect fit, completely. Turning me over, he is now hovering over me, his firm warm body against mine but balancing his weight on top of me.
"Please don't," I whisper, but he doesn't listen. I gasp and my dry throat burns because of it. He wraps his lips into mine before parting. He pecks along my jaw and throat causing me to shiver and stir under him.
"I won't let you drown," He whispers against my skin. Soon, the naked skin of my neck is covered in love marks and bruises. I've always thought of hickies as marks transferred over by the mouth straight from your heart. The physical example of love.
But I've always been miserable. I am more miserable than I am in love and it's always been like that. It isn't a sudden change.
My fingers run through the depths of his beautiful, brown hair. That's what I last remember it being, right? My loose old tank top is pulled up from my waist and his lips are soon at action. His lips wrap around my nipples lovingly, tongue lapping over the now hardened nubs. I arch my chest and purr in pleasure.
His fingernails dig into my sides as his kisses lower, my gasps heightening.
"D-do-"
He rises slowly before laying his forehead against mines. I stare up into his eyes widely, marveling at life itself. How long has it been since I've looked into these eyes? Like this?
He smiles softly but his eyes aren't smiling. It's as if I'm looking at myself through a mirror. The pain that I feel— I can see in his eyes at this very moment. Sorrow. But the usual kindness is still burning every so gently in the depths like a candle's fire that refuses to go out. He grabs my leg in his hand before settling himself. I part my lips before rolling my head back, my eyes shutting tightly.
"Edward," I whisper, wrapping my hands around his jaw, staring intensely into his eyes. He just stares at me, those glazed over eyes reminding me of the pain. The pain that I probably put him through all this time. Our breaths are the only sounds in the early morning air, the blanket around us creating the world that I've always felt was just ours, when we're together.
I moan and groan and whimper, and so does Edward. He moans my name into my ear repeatedly and I cup the back of his head securely in my palm. I'm sorry. But I can't even fix myself. Suddenly, I come to the realization that Edward is near and so am I. Panic overwhelms me.
"Edward, I can't— I can't."
He toasts his forehead against mine and stares at me deeply. His lips part and he closes his eyes tight.
"Feel, Bella. Feel anything, please." He squeezes his beautiful eyes shut suddenly, his voice begging me — cracking with sadness. Completely. Is this why he's doing all of this? Just so that I could feel something? Anything? Feel. That is something I haven't done in a long time.
Tears pinch the corners of my eyes and I wrap my arms tightly around Edward's back. I weep out in a scream as I let go and finally release. Edward releases deeply into me also, panting softly against my lips.
I finally open my eyes to Edward staring at me already. Hope and desperation bounce in his irises. His eyes are wide like a little boy who is awaiting a Christmas present on Christmas morning— but Edward's eyes are different.
I wipe the wet salty substance that runs down his cheeks with my thumbs and smile warmly up at him. I cup his soft cheek in my hand before pressing my lips to his.
"My Edward," I whisper softly and I have to pause and let the words sink in. Even Edward realizes, his eyes widening slightly at the words. How long has it been since I've said those two words? I laugh softly and shake my head, continuing to stroke his skin.
Edward lays down beside me and we turn to each other, embracing each other. There we lay for what seems like forever, breath to breath, skin to skin, eye to eye. I remember that poem...
"No one can save me but myself, Edward. I am my only hero. But maybe all these little things that you do will remind me of the true happiness I've never had. That I've only had a peak of with you. Stay with me, please."
And that was the first time I've ever asked someone to stay. I think it had always has been meant for Edward, all along.
This was something I wrote a while ago and I just think the concept of it is very beautiful. Sometimes we will save and sometimes we will need to be saved. I think this really describes a point in which you are numb. But there's still that person that "won't let you drown in your misery." I really really liked this.
Especially when Edward asks begs for her to feel - even I shivered writing that part haha. Anyways I hope you liked it and tell me what you think. I've realized that writing just for the love of writing is the best kind. Our writing is contributing to the literature world in some way. And I hope I make you feel something and I make you wonder or even just smile.