Despair
Author's Note: This story switches between points of view. There were things that needed to be said that I felt could be stated better if said like that. Please tell me what you think; I really want your opinion.
Just a warning, this one's a dark one.
Rating: PG-13, just for good measure
Disclaimer: None of it's mine, other than the storyline. Duh. The lyrics are from the song "My Last Breath" by Evanescence; they also aren't mine.
Description: Chloe loses the will to live. Could she be helped?
****
There are times when I wish I had never been born. Those times have appeared more and more frequently lately. I think, 'If only I hadn't been conceived.' Then my father wouldn't have to deal with me and who knows? He might still be with my "mother" (I use this term loosely. She bore me, but that's about the extent of her mothering career.) And then they both would be happy. God knows, Clark would be happier. He'd have nothing getting in between him and his Precious Lana, nothing keeping them from dating, getting married, settling down in a house with a picket fence and having 2.5 children. He would also never have had a nosy reporter, poking into a past he apparently didn't want revealed.
I don't really have any friends, save Pete and Clark. And Clark was constantly leaving me or making up excuses and lately, Pete had joined the club, thereby leaving me alone. There was Lana, but you couldn't discuss anything with her. She always managed to turn the conversation back to herself. She didn't care how you were feeling; she just went through the motions to be polite. "How are you?" She'd ask, looking like she actually cared.
"Horrible I-" You'd begin, but before you even complete the sentence you'd be interrupted by her.
"Oh my gosh! Did you hear what happened to me yesterday?" And then she'd ramble on and on, and always about something stupid, and you'd be forced to listen. You can't not listen. I have found this little lesson out the hard way. Once, I had interrupted Lana while she was telling one of her meaningless stories and she had stormed away in tears. "You NEVER listen!" She had exclaimed.
Chloe had nothing to live for. And maybe she couldn't wipe her existence completely away, but she could do the next best thing.
Hold on to me love
You know I can't stay long
All I wanted was to say I love you and I'm not afraid
Can you hear me?
Can you feel me in your arms?
Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light
It ends here tonight
I'll miss the winter
A world of fragile things
Look for me in the white forest
Hiding in a hollow tree (come find me)
I know you hear me
I can taste it in your tears
Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light
It ends here tonight
Closing your eyes to disappear
You pray your dreams will leave you here
But still you wake and know the truth
No one's there
Say goodnight
Don't be afraid
Calling me, calling me, as you fade to black
Nobody will miss me, she rationalized to herself. She sat down in the steaming tub and reached blindly for the knife. 'Just one cut. Just one cut.' She repeated that over and over as a kind of a mantra. 'One cut and it's all over. Just one cut.' She inhaled deeply and slashed violently at her wrist with the blade. It seemed to do the trick. Blood came pouring out her arm and she began to feel weak. The water that filled the tub had turned a sickening shade of red. She leaned back, no longer strong enough to support herself, and shut her eyes. (Just one cut.) And then there was nothing; sweet, blissful nothing.
TBC.
Author's Note: This story switches between points of view. There were things that needed to be said that I felt could be stated better if said like that. Please tell me what you think; I really want your opinion.
Just a warning, this one's a dark one.
Rating: PG-13, just for good measure
Disclaimer: None of it's mine, other than the storyline. Duh. The lyrics are from the song "My Last Breath" by Evanescence; they also aren't mine.
Description: Chloe loses the will to live. Could she be helped?
****
There are times when I wish I had never been born. Those times have appeared more and more frequently lately. I think, 'If only I hadn't been conceived.' Then my father wouldn't have to deal with me and who knows? He might still be with my "mother" (I use this term loosely. She bore me, but that's about the extent of her mothering career.) And then they both would be happy. God knows, Clark would be happier. He'd have nothing getting in between him and his Precious Lana, nothing keeping them from dating, getting married, settling down in a house with a picket fence and having 2.5 children. He would also never have had a nosy reporter, poking into a past he apparently didn't want revealed.
I don't really have any friends, save Pete and Clark. And Clark was constantly leaving me or making up excuses and lately, Pete had joined the club, thereby leaving me alone. There was Lana, but you couldn't discuss anything with her. She always managed to turn the conversation back to herself. She didn't care how you were feeling; she just went through the motions to be polite. "How are you?" She'd ask, looking like she actually cared.
"Horrible I-" You'd begin, but before you even complete the sentence you'd be interrupted by her.
"Oh my gosh! Did you hear what happened to me yesterday?" And then she'd ramble on and on, and always about something stupid, and you'd be forced to listen. You can't not listen. I have found this little lesson out the hard way. Once, I had interrupted Lana while she was telling one of her meaningless stories and she had stormed away in tears. "You NEVER listen!" She had exclaimed.
Chloe had nothing to live for. And maybe she couldn't wipe her existence completely away, but she could do the next best thing.
Hold on to me love
You know I can't stay long
All I wanted was to say I love you and I'm not afraid
Can you hear me?
Can you feel me in your arms?
Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light
It ends here tonight
I'll miss the winter
A world of fragile things
Look for me in the white forest
Hiding in a hollow tree (come find me)
I know you hear me
I can taste it in your tears
Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light
It ends here tonight
Closing your eyes to disappear
You pray your dreams will leave you here
But still you wake and know the truth
No one's there
Say goodnight
Don't be afraid
Calling me, calling me, as you fade to black
Nobody will miss me, she rationalized to herself. She sat down in the steaming tub and reached blindly for the knife. 'Just one cut. Just one cut.' She repeated that over and over as a kind of a mantra. 'One cut and it's all over. Just one cut.' She inhaled deeply and slashed violently at her wrist with the blade. It seemed to do the trick. Blood came pouring out her arm and she began to feel weak. The water that filled the tub had turned a sickening shade of red. She leaned back, no longer strong enough to support herself, and shut her eyes. (Just one cut.) And then there was nothing; sweet, blissful nothing.
TBC.