An Ed to Face
Wow FanofDa'EdBoyz. That whole Benny being Edd and Rolf's baby is screwed up AND medically impossible, and Ed and May's bodies being mistakes would be impossible since morgues use dental records to identify decomposed bodies, however, I'm not sure they ever went to a dentist in the first place. But, something that caught me about your weird guesses was the Eddy, Veronica, and Kevin pairing. Uh, okay, stop reading my mind. I'm not going to do that, but I was thinking of it. Well, anyway, your attempts are admirable, but you are off, which is just the way I want it until the-very-last-scene. Don't peek.
I think my sister hates Veronica because, in the early years of her existence, I was a thirteen year old. Her dizziness and flirtacious ways in my earlier stories irritated my sibling. However, the fact that she falls madly in love with Edd is probably her main choke since she doesn't like anything that hints upon human emotion in the first place (seriously, I've never seen my sister cry but maybe once over a dead cat). But she doesn't like S.O.S. either, I think, so it must be the OCism. It's probably both reasons. I just learned not to read her any of my fanfictions ever again.
Thank you. And for anyone else who may review later, I will reply to your reviews. I definitely will, unless I'm not dead by then of course.
Warning: If you have a heart attack while reading this last chapter, the author of this story and are not liable for your death/medical bills; so please, keep a bottle of aspirin by your desk as you read this just in case you have cardiac arrest, better to be safe than sorry.
Chapter Seven
"Two Years"
Eddy was hoping this was just her joke, or just her bad decision that she'd see the truth to right before she'd leave the terminal. He had refused to help her pack, as much as he wanted to be with her, he had refused to wish her luck in her new life, as much as he wanted to say he loved her, he had refused to drive her, but found himself cracked under the weight of his emotions. He had told himself, "Let her go, you don't need her, she wants to leave you, so let her. Don't say goodbye." But he was now holding onto her in the terminal, crying shamelessly, whimpering with his head in her waist and begging her like a crazy man not to leave.
Veronica was cold, and wiped her face, looking down, begging him with her eyes. "Eddy I can't..." She was eighteen now, and had graduated. Her scholarship to New York State was what almost hung her only remaining friend in sorrow. She didn't want to leave, she knew she'd be lonely in New York, she knew that she was slashing his wounds: but she couldn't stay. If she stayed, she might go insane, just like she knew she would. He held onto her, and could feel her damp skin through the wet cotton of her tank.
"Don't leave, don't leave, Marie left, don't leave me too."
She forgot the existence of all others in the crowded terminal, only him, and him alone. Her heavy, humid palm, was guided through his strands of hair by her shaking fingers. He cried harder, holding on tight.
"Don't leave me."
"I can't stay, I know I should, I know I'm only making everything worse, but I can't stay, I've tried, but the ghosts are driving me away... I can't believe Ed will come back when I see his ghost everywhere I turn, if I stay, I'll only kill myself... rushing it won't make it not true." He looked up at her, lifting his head and staring into her dark eyes.
"No! It doesn't mean anything, nothing is coming true! He did it! We didn't, it's not our faults! None of it is!" Snot ran over and down his chin, mingled with his tears. She stared down, caught a drop of her own salt water and clenched her hand tight.
"Yes it is! How many of us have to die before you realize you were wrong!? How many of us have to die!?!" She screamed, "We were wrong, I didn't want to admit that, but... but... It won't bring them back, but at least, at least..." she got on her knees and braced Eddy's face in both her palms, face to face with his pain. With her lips bouncing desperately against his trembling mouth, she moaned, "...at least if we admit it now, we can live! What will prove it to you? Do I have to die in order for you to believe? Do I? Is that what will prove it? Don't make it that way Eddy, please, believe now, and then we can live... don't kill me Eddy, don't kill yourself! Please!"
She squeezed his skull until it hurt, and stared at him until he burned with guilt, yet triumphed in his pride, in his persistence in being right all the time, even now.
So she got up off the floor, took her bag, and walked off, giving him the last look he'd get for five, long years, "Then I have to go Eddy."
"When I was a kid, I heard about 'cutters'. I didn't understand why they did it, no one wanted to talk about it. They just said they were really sad. But I eventually figured it out, but I couldn't understand why anyone would do something like that to themselves. I hate pain, but did everyone else? I knew I would never do that, never. I hated pain. I hate pain. But now I understand what they meant by it, they hated themselves, they had pain, and wanted to feel something better. Pain in the body is better, I know that now. But if I was going to give myself anything to treat my pain, it wouldn't be more- it would be the eliminator. That's what it would be...would be. Yeah. I won't do that. I won't. I am supposed to keep care of her, I can't kill her, I can't kill myself."
"How many of us have to die?"
Eddy often thought like this, even as the months climbed by since Ed's funeral, even as the months went by since his last confrontation with his torturer. And he often thought about the past, but this last memory he had entirely blocked out of his mind, until now. Pain hurt, pride hurt, but he knew he was right, and that was all there was to it.
He wished he never have had to take the job he did: it was so far from home, and the consequent car ride all alone only made him worse. But the medical bills were demanding, and keeping care of Benny full time made taking the IRS secretary job a necessity. The long drive home everyday, back and forth, almost killed him.
The quiet, thought-filled time wreaked of entropy, as if just another device of his torturer, to kill him.
He avoided every mirror in the car; he didn't want to look at himself, that ugly reflection that was his own face. He knew what everyone thought he was going to do, what he wanted to do, but he couldn't do it. He knew that if he did it, he would only be making everything true... everything right. And that would mean he was wrong.
But... he gripped the steering wheel, if he killed himself first, Veronica wouldn't, because she would know that Benny needed someone. If he did it first, she couldn't. And that would not make everything true.
He knew better though, if he left her, her misery would overflow to agony and there would be no hope, and that gun would be waiting for her. The car was pulled to the side of gravel-framed road, on the countryside. The only thing that would save them would be his acceptance and happiness.
"WHY!?!" He screamed in anger, breaking down, crying on the steering wheel and smashing the dashboard with his fist. Then he banged it viciously, over and over. He stopped eventually, ignoring the blistering sting in the side of his hand, sobbing. "Why can't I be happy?" He was yelling, and no one person could hear him. "Why can't I be hap- it would be so wonderful." And there, is voice collapsed and he, sore and tired, fell in his seat, staring out the windshield ahead of him, sniffling. It was as if he been tranquilized, and all he could do was lay there, his chest protruding off the seat in a pant.
For the next few minutes, he thought of happiness, he meditated over the sheer thought of it. That life seemed impossible under this curse. It was the carrot dangling under rope, and he was the donkey, he was the fool.
But this life might have been possible for Benny. He thought off his precious son, and how he was noticing his father's state of depression: it faded his beautifully innocent face into a gaze. If Eddy left now, then he wouldn't have anyone to fade his smile. Oh, what a ridiculous thing to think! How could the boy be happy if his father was dead? And yet, he thought of it as his only chance at happiness. No one could be happy with such a past as his, with such a cloud as Eddy around. If he did go away... then he could be happy.
But... she would die too. Benny would have no one... no one, Kevin couldn't care for a kid and he'd already done enough for him, he'd go in a foster home... he'd be alone... he'd be confused, would he be told that his father gave up on the world? Would he know that his father was a selfish jerk that thought that his pain was more important than his son's life? Would he? No!
No! He banged his hand on the dashboard, shaking the car. NO! He couldn't give up now! He couldn't make everything true! He couldn't be wrong! He couldn't give up! There was only ONE more chance... and he had to take it, he had to... for everything else was surrender.
He would be happy, if not for him, for everyone else.
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Benny looked up at his dad as he held onto the door knob, lingering in the doorway of his room. He watched the twenty-two year old staring at something in his hand. The expression on his face, was a relief for the kid. Sure, it was anxiety, but at least it wasn't misery. He was hoping that he had had something to do with that change of expression, since he had been trying so much to cheer everyone up. It worked most days, him charming Veronica and relaxing Eddy. And as he gradually kept distracting them from themselves, he thought that maybe they'd get better and better. He didn't know the consequences of what would happen if they didn't get better, but, more than anything, he wanted them better.
"Daddy, what are you looking at?" He set down his playing cards where he sat on his bedroom floor. Eddy looked at him and smiled.
"I'm just thinking about something."
The boy continued to stare, no smile for him, just thoughts, "Will you play gin rummy with me?" His eyes gleamed, realizing the way that Benny always listened to him. He had been helping his son with pronunciation. The little kid was growing so fast, even though he was now only seven.
"Okay," he answered, slipping the ring that he had been ogling down in his cords pocket. He came in the room and sat down next to the boy with his little legs folded in front of him.
Dealing cards, the kid counted, moving his lips, but barely a word getting out: "...five... six... seven..." Eddy watched him put the rest of the cards in between them in a flat, yet imperfect manner. How he enjoyed his son, how he ached, fearing that he wouldn't be around much longer. He could feel the impending danger, yet hid it well. Such practice he had had, he had been pretending to be normal for such a long time. "You go first," Benny smiled, his eyes fixed on his father again, fading his cheer. Eddy looked at his cards and placed a few down. But even as it was Benny's turn, the boy only stared at him.
With a sweet personality, in a caring outlook on the world, he didn't miss much. Especially when it came to the broken child living inside the man in front of him. Parents think they can hide from their kids, but they should know better than to underestimate their intelligence. This was how it was with these two.
Their eyes' sight merged into a long, mutual stare, with Benny's chin up and his chin down. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, you could never do anything wrong." As they sat there, he decided not to hide his secret from him, but to ask him his opinion. After all, he feared that his last chance at life would fail... and he feared rejection. He dug into his pocket, and took out his ring. He showed it to Benny, letting him get a good look.
"Pretty," he adjusted his leg under him, "Why do you have a girl's ring?"
"It's for Veronica," Eddy couldn't help but make it short.
"Did she win it?" He became excited.
"No, uh, this is uh, a um," the man was tongue tied. Finally, he sat up straight and cleared his voice, "Would you mind if I married her?"
His reaction was a frown, Benny thought a bit, then he stretched out his arms, and opened his mouth.
"I thought you already were," he was given an inquiring look by his taller counterpart. "You love her so much," he rolled his eyes, "... and she loves you. I thought you were married." His tongue stuck out in disgust and his eyes skipped with teasing.
"No Benny, we aren't married. I don't even know if she'll want to marry me." He only mumbled this, but Benny had heard it and was confused, thinking that lovey-dovey stuff between a woman and man was all there was needed.
"Why?"
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Veronica walked into the living room with a basket of laundry in her arms. She set it down in Eddy's stationary lap, distracting his mind from his dominant thought of marriage. He looked up at her in the silence, and she smiled at him weakly, sitting on the couch next to the basket. Folding the bath towels, she tried to ignore the look on his face, the look that said that he needed to say something very, very important. He put the basket on the floor and turned to her, as she folded rapidly and never looked at him again until he moved closer to her. This made her decide to forget folding: she needed to get out of there before he even tried to ask it.
"I...m, tired, I'm going to go to bed, good night," she stood and tried to go off, just for him to grab her hand. Pulling her into his lap, he held her closely like a treasured doll. Her eyes dug up into his most inquiring look of love. Sitting there for a minute, feeling his heat chilling her spine, she escaped and went to the hall.
However fast she walked, she was stopped by his lowly words, "You love me, right?"
"Yes," she almost whispered, so passionately into the air, "You know I do with all my heart."
"Almost all of it," he got up and started to the kitchen, opposite where she stood turning and staring at him. She lowered her head, feeling her guilt weigh in.. He turned back to her, staring at her helplessness, her sorrow, her predicament. However determined, he marched weakly over to her and took the woman into his arms, vicing her to him. He'd ask it plainly, but he was nervous. What if she smacked him? What if she said no? What if she ran from him? Cried? Rejected him?
Vaguely, he felt her touch him. "You have to take me seriously and think about what I ask you baby," he twinged and held her tighter against himself. He didn't know how to ask it, but, if he was going to say it, it was now, "Would you marry me?"
Veronica's mind raced, but everything else in her stopped. And she stared only at him, with eyes burning, vision blurring. Eddy knew she never cried happy tears. "I'm sorry I can't wait anymore." He lifted a hand, and wiped her face gently, spreading out the warmth of her tears.
"I don't know," she moaned.
"You know what to say."
"Yes I do... and... I will ma..." Eddy grimaced at her pause. She remembered who he was fearing, and cried heavier and heavier. "My heart belongs to him! It does... I can't... I rejected you in junior high for him and now that he's dead you expect me to yield myself?!" Her words trailed into each other, with painful squeaks, whines, moans, and breaking sobs. He looked down as he cried inside, just to hear her voice in his face, so afraid. The fear numbed and caged them both. "Look behind you!" She was gasping, gripping him, as he turned in the demanded direction where Veronica was staring longfully. He couldn't see what she saw though, he couldn't see anything at this point.
Nodding, "You see him, don't you?"
"YES!" She continued to cry harder, gasping, sobbing, convulsing in his chest, "I love you Eddy." She was apologizing: the last thing he needed her to do.
"But not enough."
"Yes, enough, it isn't easy! I told Double D I'd marry him, and... that I'd always love him. How can I be with you when I belong with him?" And now, he was crying madly, begging her to save him.
"You can love him and be with me."
"I want to be with him."
"But you can't." These words, they collapsed her in his arms. He caressed her in a sway, kissing her forehead even though she tried to make him stop. "I wish you could have him, even for one night. I'd let you have him... as long as you'd be happy, I'd let you have him..." She climbed back up into a straight stance, staring into his endearing, desperate eyes and startled with his offer, his degree of love. Nothing could have told her how much he loved her, but these words.
He held her, moaning and sniffling, "I just want to be happy Veronica, and the only way I can do that is by being yours." He saw the wonder, the enchantment, the awe in her eyes: she was taken, taken beyond pulling back. He knew that no matter what he did, he couldn't bring her love back, he couldn't save her from herself if he couldn't save himself.
And she hadn't said no.
She reached up her lips to his, just an inch, and kissed him, so awed by his selflessness, not even knowing to what point he was fighting to stay alive for them. He let her kiss him, open him up and reward him for his love. And once she got inside him, she was overcome with the love with which she saw in his eyes, watching her cry. He pulled her tightly, pushing himself against her as she held onto him passionately. And he was kissing her back, rubbing in her mouth, even though he knew she would never be willing to devote herself to him. However, she pulled him into her all the tighter, rougher, desperate to feel him so close. They both could feel the chills, the pleasure of surrender, and he soon was overcome by her pulling him and pushing his body up into the dark hallway and pressing herself on him. She couldn't stop kissing him, unless it was his face, unless it was his neck, unless it was pulling down his shirt collar and kissing his chest. Her arms grasped him, as she just cried, sobbing out caresses onto his frame.
His head hurt up on the hard wall, but she made up for it with her intense desire to press him. Face smeared with tears and her saliva, he tried to smile, blushing in her grasp. She stopped then, and looked up at him, holding him all this time, "I want to make you happy." She panted, as he gently took his hand, and wiped her face once more, smiling at her and crying himself. He stared down into her fragile eyes, hoping that this was real. He knew her bedroom was three feet away, he didn't need to look to it to make sure: he couldn't leave her eyes staring into his heart. She reached up for one more kiss, only a peck, on his satin lips. Her warm breath pinted his face of a beautiful red hue, and no sound could be heard, but the moaning she tried to hold back.
He slid his hand down her sticky, yet soft face to her neck and rubbed it, tracing down her arm to the hand around his waist. He enveloped his hand around hers, feeling the only icy part of her, and peeled it from his body. Their eyes never parted, only staring in trust, in fear, in love, in mourning, in hope, in agony. Slipping from her embrace, he pulled her along to the bedroom door and opened it, shutting out the cold behind them.
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The screaming stopped. It stopped. No relief, no release. The blood was pouring... the blood was dying. The knife that had been driven so harshly, was pulled out so gently with the shaking of a sixteen year old girl's hands. As one pair of beautiful eyes filled with pain, filled with darkness, filled with death, all he could see was how she cried over him. It had all happened so fast. It had all been so cruel, so sudden, so scary. He could hardly believe what had just happened, perhaps it wasn't real, but the only thing he knew was real, was that he would give... and had.
Death was a troubling thing: one moment you were living, taking life for granted, being in peace, and then... you were lying on a floor, growing cold, breathing a painful, cursed chore. He couldn't feel the blood that was soaking her lap, as she pulled, slid the knife out of his chest, crying. But, what she had thought would help, only brought up blood in spasms from his chest, that unnatural chasm, that void. It was over, he knew.
"I love you."
"Don't! You aren't going anywhere, you are going to be okay." Hearing her sob was so painful, almost worse than the drive, since he could no longer feel anything outside of her hand squeezing his. "You are going to be okay!" She wasn't convincing, he knew better, he knew that he should be dead already. That long, glistening blade had struck, stabbed him right through the center of his heart. His fate was sealed, and that's why he squeezed her hand as much as he could, because he knew that that was it.
"I love you, remember this." He whispered, having strength for this alone. The darkness was taking him, and soon he only knew the touch of her hand, and the sobbing of her broken voice. And in her voice, in her hardening squeeze, he could know the drastic change in her plea: hopelessness.
"I'll always love you."
And that was all he heard.
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And then she woke up in his arms. Her eyes forced open, wide awake, breath in loss, neck upright, fingers clenched, sweat down her naked back. The covers slid down her body, and she felt the chill of the room. Underneath her, was a slumbering, quiet boy, and this, this could not be explained: how reassuring, how comforting it was. She sighed suffocatingly in relief, sobbing convulsively over him. She had been so scared, scared to the point her body froze, and now, now it was okay, because she knew that it had all been a dream. Just a dream, a horrible nightmare. Taking up a hand from the bedside, she placed it over her mouth, and sobbed.
This under her... was her angel. He was here, in her arms. And it was all a dream. He moved slightly, but slightly at that, and was happy at peace. So she lay back down, her tears being dried with the cool night air, and slid her arms around him, resting her hot head in his narrow chest.
Yes, he wasn't much of a man yet, but that was okay, since everything of his was adored time over by her, this lover of his. She could wonder why dreams were like this, hurting you when you were the happiest, but, it was only a dream, a dream to be dismissed and ignored and forgotten.
"I love you sweetie." She gleamed in happiness.
He only moaned, half asleep and content. This moan was very audible, revealing his voice, revealing his tone, revealing who he was. And now, she couldn't sleep, she couldn't' relax, she couldn't say that she had just had a dream, because getting back up, looking down at him, actually seeing how he was, his height, the fact his chest was not narrow, that his body was not that of a boy's, that he wasn't just a dream, just a nightmare: she saw the truth.
Screaming, screaming in her hand, she sobbed, fell onto the bed away from him, crying, so scared out of her mind and numb with pain. "No!" She muffled it with her cries, "No." He slept, stirred only once, a quiet sleeper, as she cried and sobbed and moaned over the truth. He was here, naked in her arms, not her baby, not her lover, but Eddy. And she had given herself to him.
Face was lifted from the sheets, her bare face, mingled in tears and snot, she looked up at her hand clenching one of the disheveled blankets. And she saw her left hand, the ring finger, and the two rings garnering it. Both were of silver, one plain, and one beautiful. She knew that the plain was the result of the burning yet so pure love of a sixteen year old boy, matured well beyond his years and looking toward the future, with her. And the beautiful one... she knew belonged to the love of a twenty-two year old man, who's only desire was to be happy with her, and not dead without her. And so had she dug herself in a six foot grave...
But her face was lifted even farther up, and she saw who lingered over her, staring with interest, betrayal, despair, at her. She saw his eyes, his beautiful eyes, looking down, witnessing her sin. If only she could have moved, then she could have covered herself with the blanket. But he saw her clearly, he saw right through her.
"No, don't look at me Double D! I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was doing..." she had lied, she had spit out anything she could think of, sobbing, bleeding her eyes onto the bed. She gripped the blanket, and spread it over herself desperately, glancing over at Eddy. "I'm sorry Double D, I... don't know what to do."
He only stared, glaring at her. His eyes never to part, never to give up, never to turn away. She could feel the weight of him on her, even though she pressed her face into the mattress. So, she got up and stared at him, "What do you want me to do? Bring you back? I can't! I can't! I tried! I tried to fight! Do you want to me kill myself!? No! You would never want me to do that, but look, look what you're driving me to! I love you. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I should have known better, I should've listened. I should've ran as far as I could away from you so she wouldn't have gotten jealous. But no! I didn't believe him, I thought he was crazy. But now look who's crazy. That slut, that stupid girl, that dumb, man-stealing, Veronica Kanker. She's crazy." The expression on his face never changed there in the dark, his eyes only burned with love toward her. "Stop looking at me! Please! Stop looking at me!"
She crept away from the bedroom, and came back two minutes after. Eddy never had awoken, never had known she was gone. He most certainly did not know why she had left, or what she brought back with her. She collapsed at the side of the bed, and held his face, begging the night to never end, so he wouldn't have to wake up for the 8,137th day of his miserable life to find out the truth. She wished he could stay in his peaceful slumber, and never know... how she had chosen who she'd rather love, and how much she could stand. Her eyes met once more with the vision before her, her lover, her savior, and that would be the last time. She pet Eddy's face, wiping her fingers through his hair, pulling up the blanket over his warm body, doting over him in tears and sorrow:
"I'm sorry."
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It was a beautiful, cool morning that the sun would complement, that it would meet. A few billowy clouds were all that would obstruct the sun's brilliant rays. Planes soared, created their own clouds, meeting the sun on their own terms. The sun rose quickly, beaming on all things green, and a one grey building. The planes soared above these, silent and peaceful, none there knowing the woman who was walking down an ugly hall, stepping away from this window's light and going into a glum hallway which she paced across in a formal march. Room 616 was where she was going, with her hair up, dressed in whitewash, prepared for her monotonous job. When she entered this room though, she was met with the overpowering, rude smell of smoke before she looked to the wide floor. It was the floor, which made her gasp and run from the large pile of ashes. But she stopped in the hallway, no longer fearing to call a fire alarm, seeing that the flames had consumed in theirself. Leave it alone. She came back, the smoke still floating around and taking itself into her nostrils. There were two piles, now that she looked. One, of wood, small and insignificant. A single match lay a foot away from it. And next to this pile was a much larger mound of ashes, with the outline of a human. The woman put her hand over her mouth to try to stop from inhaling the burnt flesh. She couldn't understand why or how- she couldn't understand. This was beyond her, beyond all of them. Beyond Johnny's now lifeless ashes.
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The impossible, was not understandable. The impossible was discouraging. The impossible, was all he had left. This was the chance for life, and he had to work for it, fear it, fight. Fighting for love was what he was doing, as cheesy as that sounds, he was. It is harder to think about it, being so real. Some people didn't have to fight this hard for something so seemingly simple as living, just inhale, go through motions, exhale. But, it was this way. And, it seemed so unfair. But, sleeping here, in her bed, made him understand how lucky he really was. He had gotten by on a string, and made it: life was guaranteed. She was not next to him, but he knew that her hand was garnered with his ring. This was all he needed to keep him alive.
Why did he deserve someone who loved that deeply? He was so lucky that she could get past her pain and her agony, but he knew he did not deserve her. He had screwed up, and he knew that. So maybe, he finally had realized, when so close to running his car off the bridge that was on the way to his work, that he shouldn't have her. Maybe they would be alone for the rest of her life. Maybe they would never stop mourning. Maybe that was the way it was to be, for ever. But no! No! She was his, and he was hers, and there was nothing that was going to change that.
He reached over a hand, and it fell onto the cool sheets and soft mattress, so he rubbed over, sliding his hand as he went and came to her body at the other end of the bed. He drew his hand up her back, feeling the creases and coming up, to land his hand on her round, chilly shoulder. Rubbing up, he was against her, and his head was filled with smiles and glistening eyes of violent love and powerful ecstasy. His heart was bursting in joy, as his arms encompassed her, as he took her in to warm her, as he almost snickered in happiness, so pleasantly charmed. As he took her in his arms, he knew that he could go on, that life would be alright- at least bearable. He knew that he could see his son grow up, that he could remember that his friends died, but never left. He could live to joke on Kevin, to work at his stupid job, to wipe those tears that might never leave, to marry the love he thought he would never have.
And he put his arms around her.
One thing changes all that you think, because thinking doesn't mean anything. Thinking is not guaranteed. It is not peace. It is not life.
He felt the cold fluid on this side of the bed by her, as his elbow landed in the sheet. He could feel no warmth. The blankets were damp, the room wreaked, the shivers of his body were telling him that something, something was something here. The only word to describe it was- cold.
Cold. She was cold, and now he knew she was cold. The shivers, the gnawing pain, that burn that struck his heart with a ferocity of a million monsters bashing and bruising his spirit. He leapt, and gripped her quick, pulling her on her back and, not even knowing he was crying, touching her face, squeezing her arms, shaking her, screaming... "VERONICA!" He pet her face, not knowing that he was spreading her blood all over her and unto him. He shook her, touching her neck with trembling hands, rubbing her for whichever wound she had which was making her bleed like this, with all this blood. He kept screaming, not even knowing what he was saying, just yelling at her to wake up. He took her torso, running his palms over her damp abdomen, then up her body to her arms. He shook her, shaking the bed, and tearing his hands into her cramping, stiff palms.
He heard the sharp clank of her ticket. The knife fell onto the wooden floor, off the side of the bed, and numbed him in fear. And he could hardly feel, hardly move, but he felt her bloody wrists, and the wide voids where her delicate skin was once so whole.
"NO!" He cried, the truth shooting him in the skull. He knew better than to think, to dream, to sleep away his problems. He knew better... now. He knew he didn't deserve her, and now he knew he couldn't have her. "No! Wake up! Say something! Yell at me! Okay, I won't marry you! Just... please, SAY SOMETHING TO ME!!! Veronica! Please, you can't leave me. I need you to stay. Everyone leaves, you can't leave. I need you. I need you. Wake up." And with this last syllable, he lost his voice to the ache, to the pain.
The room would only hear him sniffling in her chest, shaking, so cold.
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At 4526 on highway 65, you might have been able to look out the window of your car, as it went down the highway, for whatever reason you were here, and you would have seen a house on the side of the highway. It would be a quiet house, for only one more minute. As the sun beat down upon it in a blinding manner, as the grass was gently pushed in the breeze of the air, as the paint chipped and the rust built up. As the time sped behind and before you, as you couldn't change ONE single thing about your life or the lives of any body else, you wouldn't hear the bullet. That one bullet that ended Eddy's miserable life. You wouldn't hear it, but his family would. And there would be only one explanation to the seven year old boy who had never done anything wrong, or the man who had tried to give him hospitality and friendship, regardless of their past: an almost unreadable collection of frantic lines of despair and desperate pleads on a crinkled, bloody paper.
This is not my fault. Im sorry. I didn' ' t give up, she did Its okay with me Now we are all together, and nothing will change that.
Even though not many people from that little cul-de-sac in Peach Creek lived on after those few days in one hot summer, a few had a distinct picture in their scarred memories of three innocent, happy, young friends living in that promising time of their lives, and looking ahead towards a bright future.
The End
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A red-sleeved book fell to the cement, away from his shaking limbs and lay there in the sun. What was read was unexplainable, awing, horrible, the best and the worst book he had ever read. He looked at it on the sidewalk, at the feet of his three sitting friends. They were looking at him, trying to keep themselves from shedding any of the tears or pain that was filling their eyes and hearts. He fell to his knees, scraping them both through his jeans, and looking at his friends in the grass, silence overtaking everyone of them. The end of the road was before them, and their life between them. They looked at that book, with the pages mangled on the ground, and the boy grabbed it and gripped it to rip out page after page in anger, and screaming. The paper fell on the cement, as he just tore away, screaming more and more, so mad, so rightfully mad.
"Eddy stop!" His soft friend finally found the spirit to speak up. His other friend stood up, wiping his eyes and taking the book from him, to throw it in the road as far as he could up the street. They needed to get that book away from them, because it was a monster, it was an intrusion, it was a warning. Eddy fluttered his eyes to dry his shameful tears, and braved to look up at scolding Edd, crying Ed, and silent Veronica. They sat on the grass, numbed and bewildered.
"Why would he make up that stuff guys? Is that gonna happen to us?" Ed's lower lip trembled, his eyes pouring out on his red lids. Edd pat his back, holding in his grief and staring at Veronica.
"No, no it will not."
His words were reassuring, but broken by the call of one so familiar, what they thought was familiar, but now was feared. All of their eyes fell on Johnny in the road, picking up the hard cover and looking at them. His presence looming... from where he stood some thirty yards away. Eddy clenched his fists, and ran after him.
"YOU STUPID JERK!" He screamed, grabbing Johnny's thin neck and shaking him insanely. His friends ran over to stop him, and pulled him from the demon they knew was only a demon and nothing else. As he recovered from his attack, and Eddy stopped tugging away from Ed and Veronica's grip, Edd spoke up and spoke loud.
"Why?"
Johnny looked at him, then down at Plank in his arms. His fearful, weak, confused word filled their ears, and they waited, all wanting to know, "Why?"
The younger kid, in his tee shirt and holding the pet of his youth close, looked at them with softened eyes, in remorse and in pity. But he didn't know how to answer Edd, or any of them. They stood before him, safe feet away, and the breeze was the only one muttering any words.
"Why did you write this about us all? How could you have wrote something so... terrible. You don't know how much this hurts... How real it seemed, how much you got each and every one of our feelings and put them in this book for everyone to read, how do you know us so well? How did you know that I love Veronica enough to die for her, she didn't even know that until now. How did you know that Ed and May get along so well? He was trying to keep this a secret from us because he didn't think we'd understand. How did you know that Eddy would have... faltered... and would refuse to help Ed in his time of need? These all haven't happened, but we know that... in those situations... we would have done the same thing. Everything, everything." He wiped his eyes, glancing at each one of his friends, then back at the despondent boy in front of them. "How could you have known? Where...?"
Now Johnny could speak, "From inside me that was brave enough to write the truth about you, about the cul-de-sac, about me and Plank."
"What are you talking about!?!" Eddy shouted again, as Johnny clenched the book close to his chest.
He shouted over Eddy, trying, pleading to explain himself, with hurt in his eyes, "We aren't supposed to grow up! We have these souls that will be forever just kids. Can you see us growing up? No! This is the way I saw things, and I don't know how, but I saw this. Plank showed me what is going to happen, and I wrote it, because I knew you wouldn't listen to me if I just told you, but a book... you'd listen to a book." He looked down at the red cover.
"NO! That stupid hunk of wood can't say anything!!!" Eddy shouted, trying to tug at Ed's grip.
"Johnny, you aren't serious? You believe that this is what really is going to happen to us?" Veronica asked, speaking up and shaking. She couldn't help but grab Edd's hand and squeeze it as hard as she could, scared. Their young enemy nodded his head solemnly and Eddy jumped forward to be pulled back by his friends again.
"Eddy stop!" Ed cried, hugging him close. "I don't want to die Johnny! Make it wrong!"
"I can't, if I could, I would."
"Oh shut up! You wouldn't! YOU are the cause of it in the book!" Veronica shouted. These words of hers alarmed her friends, and herself. Did she really believe the garbage Johnny was telling them? Did any of them? Was it possible that Johnny did know what would happen to each and every one of them? Was it true?
"Veronica, he's lying, don't believe him. This is impossible," Edd gripped her hand, pleading, because if none of them believed it, somehow that would make it better.
"No it isn't, and in two years I'm going to become a drug addict. Marie Kanker will try again for Eddy. Veronica will admit the stubborn truth that she loves you, Rolf will be told to find a sacrifice for the moon festival, and everything will fall into place perfectly with those things. It will, whether you know it or not. It will all happen, because Plank never lies to me. But if you just believe me, you could stop it from happening, you could. Just like in the book, you could stop it from happening, by believing me."
Eddy finally got free, and scrambled onto Johnny, bashing his head with his fists, and ripping Plank from his arms and throwing the wood down with a blunt impact. He punched Johnny's face, making blood his blood mark and tatter his face.. "No! This won't happen! We aren't going to die! None of us are! YOU CAN'T SAY WE ARE!!!!" His desperate, angered shouts were so loud and afraid, with blow after blow to fight for his plead. .
Ed and Veronica grabbed him and brought him up, all three crying heavily at last. Edd looked at them, then left Johnny to help himself. The awkward boy wiped his bloody nose, and sat up, staring up at Eddy from the cement, and speaking in indignation and self-righteous confidence in every fact.
"Go ahead, don't believe me. But when you remember how your fingers were wrinkled in Edd's blood, how Ed's coffin couldn't be open at the funeral, while you wake to find Veronica's wrists slashed open and you are pulling the trigger to a gun at our own head, remember that you were wrong, that you thought I was crazy, and that if you had just listened to me, you could have stopped it from happening. You remember that, you ALL remember that you bastards."
It is true, you can't change one thing about your life when you've already lived it out. You can't go into the past and change this or that for your benefit. That part of your life is already gone, and there is nothing you can do for it. All you can change is how it is going to end.
Two
years.
The End
