"You are of no use to me anymore!"
Frustrated beyond madness, Michiru threw the thick paperback book against the far wall of her moderate apartment as hard as she could. For the last three months she had read and studied every page, every single word, of the damnable thing in hopes of achieving her heart's desire, but to no avail. She was still alone. So painfully alone.
The encouraging smiles. The teasing stares. The hinting phrases. She had followed each step flawlessly. What could she have done wrong? She had read every chapter but the last. She gave up. There was no light at the end of her forsaken tunnel. There was no use continuing this slow self inflicting torture any longer. Michiru leaned her back against the deep blue colored wall beside her bedroom door. Angry tears seared their way down her flushed cheeks, the image of her beloved agony appearing before her mind's eyes. She clenched her fists on either side and threw them back harshly, punishing the wall for her rage. Her heart constricted, confining the the war of emotions to her very core. The acid of rejection ate away at her soul until there was nothing left of the gentle Michiru but a hollow shell.
Love was suppose to be beautiful and free, warming the heart like wine. Someone had laced her wine with belladonna, she thought bitterly. She felt trapped and abandoned. There was no castle in the sky for her, no happily ever. Damn you, Hollywood! Damn you for implanting a mythical idea in the influential mind of a romantic such as herself. She had been a fool to think that she could live the enchantment created by a script and a directors imagination. She had been a fool to believe that love could conquer all, but not a shy heart. One sided loves only pillaged and stole away young fantasies born of a romantic heart.
The lovely school teacher went into the kitchen to check on her dinner preparations. The Sashimi wasn't quite ready. The sushi chilled in the refigerator with the strawberry cheesecake she had made from scratch. On the counter waited a wooden bowl filled to the brim with crisp green lettuce leaves topped with fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, all bathed in a homemade vinegar dressing. Behind it were two crystal goblets lined intricately with gold and an unopened bottle of white wine dating back to 1958.
She had worked hard on this special dinner, intending it to be the confessional in which she would reveal the tender secrets of her being to the essence of her existence. In the dining area the cherry oak table set for two was illumintated by emerald candles held firmly in twin candle holders of the clearest crystal.
The sight of the second place setting brought the searing of sorrowful tears anew. No one would be sharing this meal with her this evening. Alone. Always so alone. The pangs of hunger faded away, lost to her distant thoughts. The sparks of anger dulled as a profound depression swept over her. She had tried so hard to win her heart's ultimate desire. Still that was not enough. What else had she to do to express her extreme affection? Did she have to climb to the top of the tallest building in Tokyo and shout it to the world for her beloved to understand all that she felt. The shock of emotion that had bolted threw her body when she had looked up from the novel she had been reading and saw her standing there searching the shelves dedicated to sport racing and fancy automotives.
Dearest Haruka….
She absently started to cut the strawberries in halves. They were to be used for a special, purely intimate invention she had dreampt up late at night while lying alone in her queen size bed. That dream was now dead. An idea forever to remain undiscovered. She had another engagement, she had stated as she politely declined the dinner invitation. Michiru couldn't help the jealously that was conjured by her wild imagination. Was she blonde or brunette? Her grip on the bone handle of her knife tightened painfully. Her teeth began to grit in her developing anger.
Without Haruka here by her side, the strawberries had lost their purpose for the evening, and she had lost her purpose for being, her reason for living. The steel of the blade flashed in the dim light of her kitchen, and her mind became nonexistent.
Her nerves were so numb, she could not feel the sharpness of the blade as it pierced through the fine skin of her wrist. A crimson trail followed the length of the faint blue line of her vein. Unconcious of what she was doing she replicated her action upon the other arm. She stared at her twin wrists, seeing the gathering pools of blood, watching it overflow and rain upon the white tile. She did not understand what was happening to her. What had she done?
Release. Sweet, sweet release, she sighed as her body relinquished to the power of gravity and despair, the knife falling unnoticed from her limp hand. She laid there, her life draining from her fragile form.
Your can no longer hurt me, Michiru whispered internally…my dearest Haruka!
To Be Continued…
Authors Note : Ok Ok I get it, you guys. Can you blame a girl for dreaming? Ok. How about 20 reviews. I think this story is really good, and I promise it will only get better. All I ask for is 20 reviews and honest opinions on what you all thought. If there is such a thing as a constructive flame, then so be it. Nothing rude though. I do not own the characters involved, but the story is mine. Please enjoy and comment. The second chapter is done and waiting to be put up. Just 20 reviews. I agree, 40 was a bit much. ^_^ oops!
Frustrated beyond madness, Michiru threw the thick paperback book against the far wall of her moderate apartment as hard as she could. For the last three months she had read and studied every page, every single word, of the damnable thing in hopes of achieving her heart's desire, but to no avail. She was still alone. So painfully alone.
The encouraging smiles. The teasing stares. The hinting phrases. She had followed each step flawlessly. What could she have done wrong? She had read every chapter but the last. She gave up. There was no light at the end of her forsaken tunnel. There was no use continuing this slow self inflicting torture any longer. Michiru leaned her back against the deep blue colored wall beside her bedroom door. Angry tears seared their way down her flushed cheeks, the image of her beloved agony appearing before her mind's eyes. She clenched her fists on either side and threw them back harshly, punishing the wall for her rage. Her heart constricted, confining the the war of emotions to her very core. The acid of rejection ate away at her soul until there was nothing left of the gentle Michiru but a hollow shell.
Love was suppose to be beautiful and free, warming the heart like wine. Someone had laced her wine with belladonna, she thought bitterly. She felt trapped and abandoned. There was no castle in the sky for her, no happily ever. Damn you, Hollywood! Damn you for implanting a mythical idea in the influential mind of a romantic such as herself. She had been a fool to think that she could live the enchantment created by a script and a directors imagination. She had been a fool to believe that love could conquer all, but not a shy heart. One sided loves only pillaged and stole away young fantasies born of a romantic heart.
The lovely school teacher went into the kitchen to check on her dinner preparations. The Sashimi wasn't quite ready. The sushi chilled in the refigerator with the strawberry cheesecake she had made from scratch. On the counter waited a wooden bowl filled to the brim with crisp green lettuce leaves topped with fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, all bathed in a homemade vinegar dressing. Behind it were two crystal goblets lined intricately with gold and an unopened bottle of white wine dating back to 1958.
She had worked hard on this special dinner, intending it to be the confessional in which she would reveal the tender secrets of her being to the essence of her existence. In the dining area the cherry oak table set for two was illumintated by emerald candles held firmly in twin candle holders of the clearest crystal.
The sight of the second place setting brought the searing of sorrowful tears anew. No one would be sharing this meal with her this evening. Alone. Always so alone. The pangs of hunger faded away, lost to her distant thoughts. The sparks of anger dulled as a profound depression swept over her. She had tried so hard to win her heart's ultimate desire. Still that was not enough. What else had she to do to express her extreme affection? Did she have to climb to the top of the tallest building in Tokyo and shout it to the world for her beloved to understand all that she felt. The shock of emotion that had bolted threw her body when she had looked up from the novel she had been reading and saw her standing there searching the shelves dedicated to sport racing and fancy automotives.
Dearest Haruka….
She absently started to cut the strawberries in halves. They were to be used for a special, purely intimate invention she had dreampt up late at night while lying alone in her queen size bed. That dream was now dead. An idea forever to remain undiscovered. She had another engagement, she had stated as she politely declined the dinner invitation. Michiru couldn't help the jealously that was conjured by her wild imagination. Was she blonde or brunette? Her grip on the bone handle of her knife tightened painfully. Her teeth began to grit in her developing anger.
Without Haruka here by her side, the strawberries had lost their purpose for the evening, and she had lost her purpose for being, her reason for living. The steel of the blade flashed in the dim light of her kitchen, and her mind became nonexistent.
Her nerves were so numb, she could not feel the sharpness of the blade as it pierced through the fine skin of her wrist. A crimson trail followed the length of the faint blue line of her vein. Unconcious of what she was doing she replicated her action upon the other arm. She stared at her twin wrists, seeing the gathering pools of blood, watching it overflow and rain upon the white tile. She did not understand what was happening to her. What had she done?
Release. Sweet, sweet release, she sighed as her body relinquished to the power of gravity and despair, the knife falling unnoticed from her limp hand. She laid there, her life draining from her fragile form.
Your can no longer hurt me, Michiru whispered internally…my dearest Haruka!
To Be Continued…
Authors Note : Ok Ok I get it, you guys. Can you blame a girl for dreaming? Ok. How about 20 reviews. I think this story is really good, and I promise it will only get better. All I ask for is 20 reviews and honest opinions on what you all thought. If there is such a thing as a constructive flame, then so be it. Nothing rude though. I do not own the characters involved, but the story is mine. Please enjoy and comment. The second chapter is done and waiting to be put up. Just 20 reviews. I agree, 40 was a bit much. ^_^ oops!