LAST MOMENTS, MAKE THEM COUNT(IF YOU CAN)
She's at the end of the road. She knows. So she's has to make her last moments count. So she does what she does. Think.
Never Was
She's on fire. Literally on fire. Gold, ruby, amber, sapphire, moonstones, diamonds… all these gems. They threaten to engulf her. Now she's rich, like she never truly was. Now she's the girl on fire, like she never was, either.
Maybe
Maybe now she can be the object of this love, of his admiration. Maybe now he won't be full of disgust when he sees her. Maybe, just maybe, maybe someday, maybe somewhere.
Nothing
She never did anything wrong. She never did anything right, not really. She never did anything. So, she won't be remembered. There won't be any legacy for her, no movies, no real grave, no, nothing. She's nothing.
Alone
She was alone at school. Isolated by her 'important' status. Isolated by her 'wealth'. Only one dared to sit, to talk to her, and even then, she was alone, because the other was never truly there. She was alone at home. Her father too busy, her mother deranged, hurt, quite dead to the world. She was alone. And now she's alone too.
Remember
She remembers his eyes, so much like the ones of the girl she admired, envied, adored. She remembers his hair, raven, that she never will touch. She remembers, oh she does, the rough skin of his palms, that she only ever brushed, oh so slightly, once. She remembers, the hunk of flesh with silvers of skin that they called his back. She remembers running through the snow, slipping, carrying the light metal case full of morphling. She remembers, remembers, remembers. But it won't do her any good, because he won't remember. No one will, no one will be there to remember.
She closes her eyes, lets the excruciating heat take her, doesn't fight, reaches the end of the road, and lets a charred hand close the book, once and for all.
Thanks for reading! It would be awesome for you to review...*hint hint* :)
-AS