please excuse any spelling and grammer errors, something happened to my MS word so i used a rich text doc. meaning no spell check for me. i will fix it as much as possible for the next week, but i suck at spelling. please alert me of any spelling or grammer mistakes, and i will fix them asap.
Disclaim: i don't own death note, Matt, BB, Nicocle blackman, her poem, or even a copy of any of her books....
Enjoy! ^^
Silence, something he had once treasured, become something suffocating, holding his lungs tight, stealing his breath, and killing him slowly. the feel of a knife, which, maybe an hour ago, would have sent him running, was, at the moment, comforting, welcoming. the fear had long since transformed into something akin to pleasure, nearly ecstacy, as a small red line dripped rubbies down his chin, and onto the carpet below. "you're mine," a voice above him whispered, "and this mark will prove it. You belong to me, and any one who tries to steal you will pay." The knife carved a thirteen into his hip, and a muffled cry escaped his lips as blood slowly stained the dark blue jeans.
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It's over in a few hours, but the scar will last a few days. maybe a week. thats what he always thinks to him self, staring in the mirror, and tracing the long dark marks down his chest, stomach, hips, arms, neck. They're everywere. some are easier to hide then others, but they can't be erased, wont be erased. stubborn memories, fight to keep themselves in the front of his mind, as he fights to forget. leaving the babthroom, he spots his favorite book, laying open on his desk. is eyes flick towards a stanza he had read many times over.
"You are startled he is doing this to you,
You are startled he knows how,
You are startled that you stay, knowing
that you would tell a friend to kill him,
if he did this to her.
Your mouth is on fire with possibilities,
You say nothing."
It's alway been like this. Every time he read this, he feals it was written just for him, like she was talking to him. Like she knew him. But how could she, when he doesn't know who he is? He was owned, and who he was wasn't is bussiness anymore. BB could only own things, not love them. He could only control. Matt could only be owned, he had long forgotten what love was, and was too famillier with being controlled. it ws a match made it the deepest pits of hell. they were like water and oil. or water and dye. Matt was the pet, and BB was the owner, and nothing would change, for a very long time.
Poem: in the movie now by Nicole blackman
Please give me some feedback! i like to here from people who like what i write!