_~* Whisper*~_
________________________________________________
I've this creeping
Suspicion that things are not as they seem
Reassure me
Why do I feel as if I'm in too deep
I've been praying
For some way to show them I'm not what they see
Yes I have done wrong
But what I did I thought needed to be done
I swear
~Dave Matthews Band
__________________________________________________
:{Thoughts} [Conscience/mind kinda thing] (Italics for lyrics insert, for subconscienceness, sorta):
Flicker.
Balance unstable, she'd sat down, vision blurred by hot tear-flames.
Flicker.
Somewhat quivering lips leaked short, shaky breaths.
Flicker.
Flame of the single white candle dancing in her eyes, she'd wrapped the blanket tighter around her shivering, frighteningly pale body. She could vaguely feel its warmth, paying no heed to the tingling now galloping through her veins. Sudden shivers bounded up her frail spine, and she had let out a quick gasp, from the cold or from her heart she couldn't quite tell.
The candle flickered again.
Her cheeks had, at that point, become warm enough, the seemingly burning liquid spilling over saddened, half-shut eyes. Hands still shaking, she'd gingerly set the fountain pen atop a gracefully written letter, glancing out the window as it clicked against the cream marble. Frigid eyes moved along swiftly, waltzing with the snowflakes drifting through her open window; she liked the cold. It had always been there to remind her that something was closer to ice than she, herself. Of which she'd been grateful.
Her gaze had then swept back to her pale hand which rested on the cold stone, rolling seven small white things in her hand. The color didn't differ enough from her skin for comfort. Still the tiniest bit indecisive, she read over the letter once again. It had to be perfect. She wouldn't have it any other way.
She reached down next to her, fingering for the paper bag - heard it crumple - brought it back up.
{It's not my fault...} She'd told herself again. {This was really his choice, you know.}
[What do you mean?] The rational part of her mind argued, [*You* let your guard down. *You* let yourself feel for him. What do you mean it's *his* fault? You're acting like he pinned you down and beat the blooming shit out of you until you felt the way you do now! And you honestly think he'd want this? Hah!]
She winced, knowing it was right, knowing this was wrong.
But she *had* to, it was for the better. ...Wasn't it?
Sad thing was, she couldn't bring herself out of that belief. She felt too guilty, alone.
{Well this isn't the *only* reason.}
[Isn't it?]
{I'm not so pathetic and desperate as to lose it over a guy! It's just *everything*, you know? My life in general. How my mother died, being beaten and thrown
(So I run to the edge of a shadow of a doubt, with my conscience
bleeding...)
over the edge by my own father, leaving me as a child of barely two to fend for myself in an orphanage? What's happened between then, what I've done, what I've become? That's a valid reason, I should think!}
[But you know a big part of it. The main reason. You know it, damn you, don't lie! It's him, how you feel for him, and how you're so sure he loves that other girl, when you don't really even know that. You've convinced yourself that-]
The itchy wool blanket fell to the ground when she slammed her fist onto the hard marble, trying to shut out her mind. She closed her numbing hand around the small pills, moved her eyes again to the tiny picture of "him" and his bright, shining eyes and handsome face. His fault. He was the one who had broken through the barrier and stolen her heart; he was the one she could never have. She blamed herself for that.
The young woman popped the sour, freezing pills into her mouth. She flinched once at the awful taste, grimacing, then let them dissolve as she closed her eyes. She heard a few tears splash onto the crisp paper, and hoped it didn't smear anything. That she couldn't afford. They all needed to know. She also brushed away any tear that may be left, for fear that they would see she'd cried. But how did that make sense? Not wanting to be seen crying, yet being seen *suicidal*? Pride, she supposed, had a way of screwing over one's mind. So did greed.
She let herself fade into her death, going over all the reasons why she'd done it, and it sounded perfectly insane. She reached up to her chest, grasping, gingerly, the rose-bud shaped necklace he'd given her for her birthday. She slumped further in her chair, more and more relaxed.
But he was the last of the world she saw; and to her, it was the world.
* * * * * * *
He was stunned.
He sat there, long after the others left. Selphie had tried her best to get him to go along with the rest of them, sad as they were, but he couldn't.
Eyes wide and gushing, he couldn't tear his gaze from the beautiful woman who lay in front of him. Short gasps and moans tumbled over each other in the back of his throat. He stroked her limp, cool hand, and bent over painfully, clutching his
(I like you, I'm not gonna crack)
stomach to try and ease the knot that was exploding there; he shut his eyelids as hard as he could, forcing out more tears, and crumpled the piece of paper in his hand. That he couldn't let go of, either.
Standing, the man loomed over the beauty's dead body, and bent forward to lightly kiss her parted, lifeless lips. It hurt even worse now. He shock and pain was growing, instead of at least slightly letting up. It wasn't surprising, either; this was a worse ache than he ever could have imagined, and was amazed he hadn't broke down in heavy, thrashing
(I miss you, I'm not gonna crack)
sobs. There *was* a reason for it.
He had to be strong for her.
He squeezed her hand, sat back down and ran his fingers through his tangled, rough hair. He opened the letter again. Read the few sentences now imprinted into his brain. They would be for the rest of his life. "...you guys...I mean...just the way you look at each other. I wanted to tell you how I felt so badly, how much I wanted you, loved you...*needed* you. But you have her, and I felt guilty for loving you that way. I know none of you would have guessed it...I did, though, I do right now, and I'm sure even after death I'll feel the same. Please, just don't hate me for it. Don't hate me. I'm not sure I could handle that."
At this, Selphie had burst out in anger, screaming: "We don't HATE you, we DON'T! WE NEVER *COULD*!" and the others had just glanced her way, warily and sadly, feeling just as she was.
But not as bad as him. No...he was
(I love you, I'm not gonna crack)
devastated. *Desperate*.
{If you had only TOLD me! All you had to do was come say it to me! You KNOW damn well there was nothing between me and her! I loved you...I love you...love *you*, *you*, YOU!} His mind screeched, agonized, stricken. He almost hated her for it, what she'd done to him. She was special. Different. That's why he'd fallen for her, that's why he loved her so much, and that's why he was almost mad at the limp figure in front of him.
Her smile, her laugh, her walk, her voice, her *life*, all gone in one quick moment. And *by her own will*!
He'd tensed as he went over all this. He was standing, hands clenched into fists, eyes tightly shut, teeth gritting together. Finally, he broke down, sobbing into the woman's icy stomach. Wailing like a little kid, he was ashamed of himself. But he'd felt the same *way*, dammit, WHY?!
He groped for the box she had left for him, found it, wrapped his fingers around it. He flicked the small lid off, peering inside through puffy, swollen eyes. It was a bullet shell. The same one she'd so confidently proved his theory on women and their strength in aim. She'd struck that thing right square in the middle of the eyes on the T-Rexaur on the first try. Of course everyone in the training center at the time had laughed at him, after the big deal he'd made of it, saying she couldn't do it. At the time he'd been furious, but now it almost made him smile. He would have, too, if his emotions hadn't gone up in flames by now. He'd snapped, to say in the least.
His hands began to shake, and he dropped the small box. A small moan escaped from his throat as he reached to touch her cheek, then lightly caressed her soft lips with a calloused thumb. He looked out the window for the first time, breathing out puffs of stuttering smoke from the cold. It was fogged from all the snow and ice, reminding him of the snow-ball fight the two had had just the other day, a little more than just lighthearted flirting. How could she think...why...it just made no SENSE!! He loved her. She loved him. She was dead. He was, for the most part, now dead inside himself.
His soggy eyes drifted back to the woman's glamorous face, sorrowful in words beyond expression. He suddenly felt the urge to hold her, protect her, tumble into him; and, as any man this far gone would have no control over, he obeyed it.
It was sickening, almost; so depressing, the way he gently gathered her limp, slim body into his arms, bringing her over to a corner and curling up with her. He cradled her head, hair now down and combed, and upper body so lightly, like a small, weak child. And that's what she was, wasn't she?
The man hugged her tighter to him, resting his head on top of her own, then looking down to her face one last time.
"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudibly; it was the first thing he'd said since he'd discovered her body in her dorm that morning. He'd just picked her up, carried her to the clinic in silence, paying no attention to all the scared looks people were giving him. They'd asked questions, plenty, but he'd just brushed past them. Someone went to get the rest of the gang, of course, and the caught up to him next to the body in Dr. Kadowaki's office. They'd tried to get something out of him after the initial shock, or *in* him, in the case of eating and drinking, but they couldn't. He was in his own little world, unable to focus on anything else. And then the letter? Well, hadn't that set off the final blow! "I love you more than you'll ever know," he continued, "You know that? Love you...love. But I'll see you soon. I will. And I can tell you. Nobody's here to stop me."
He quickly grabbed his gun from the sheath, and pointed the cool, shiny metal to his left temple. He kept his eyes trained
(I kill you, I'm not gonna crack)
on the girl tucked into him, knowing the gun well enough so that it was idiocy to look. "I love you so damn much," he whispered again, and pulled the trigger.
* * * * * * *
They were in the lobby when they heard the gunshot go off. It echoed through the halls, grabbing their attention immediately. Exchanging glances, they all soundlessly agreed on what it was, and ran bloody hell to the new Garden ceremonial room, made special for all the honorable students' funerals, to go there just before the burial.
They tore through the halls, knowing, apparently, what nobody else did; they guessed everyone assumed it was just a practice shot. The whole Garden was used to that by far now.
When they got to the big white room, Selphie was first in the door, eyes wide, alarmed.
"The body is gone," she heard Squall's deep, commanding voice behind her.
"Where did-" Ellone began, but stopped immediately when she heard Selphie scream. They all turned to see the petite brunette with her eyes wide as hell, hands clasped over her mouth and nose.
Rinoa's eyes widened as well when she looked the direction Selphie was, "IRVINE!" She screeched, and staggered back into a chair, sitting down, mouth wide open. She'd known what happened, just didn't quite...expect it.
Zell and Squall rushed past them, dropped to their knees and examined the situation. "I...I knew it hit him hard, and I knew...but...this...I mean...he even...damn..." Zell stuttered, stunned as well. Ellone, who had come to Garden right away upon the arrival of the news, rushed to their side and skid to her knees. What she saw scared her to no end.
Irvine sat there, Quistis' body hugged to him, his arms wrapped around her protectively. His head was tilted sideways, a serene expression on his face, and a puddle of blood was starting to form by them. The gun was still in his hand, and Quistis' head was propped up on his shoulder. It was, in her opinion, rather creepy.
Selphie was now sitting down, as well. She started to cry all over again. "He even got her *body*! God, Irvy, why'd you...why....Quisty..." She choked out, then covered her eyes with her hands.
Rinoa looked at them, fear welled up into her eyes, and she couldn't look away from it; she just couldn't believe it. Two of her best friends...in *one day*...sitting there, like they were alive, and she'd never been more terrified.
Zell wasn't without pain, either. He broke down in tears, burying his face in Sis's shoulder, and she brought one hand up to stroke his hair as she stared on in disbelief. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She thought that was all she really had left in her.
Squall backed up in horror, and wanted badly to run away, escape it, mourn and cry and run away-
All of them looked to the door as a few Garden officials burst in - one of the students must have told. Selphie, Rinoa, Squall, Zell and Ellone didn't really even have time to fully develop a reaction in the short time they sat there. One of the men ordered the five kids out, and at first they couldn't move; they could only stare.
Finally, They all stood up, reluctant, and started out, asking no questions. It may have seemed cruel, to leave their friends so quickly, seconds even, after sudden death, but their nerves were shot. They were almost in a complete Nirvana, beyond everything, not totally aware of anything around them anymore.
But Selphie didn't follow. Instead, she moved forward, and stared, teary-eyed, at her two friends. Slowly, she wrapped one arm around the both of them, as if touching them, willing them to come alive, would really work. "Bye, you guys...I love ya's." A guard, not completely sympathetic, yanked her off of them, and she looked down to see a growing blood stain on her bright orange blouse. She didn't particularly care. She was only aware that the two most important people in her life was gone, and she, as well as her other friends, were completely numbed in all aspects of the word. It all happene so fast, and so...*dry*, she supposed was the right word.
"Come on," he ordered gruffly, quickly shoving her out of the room, and looked back on more time; and she could have sworn, in the last glimpse of her best friends she was allowed, that Quistis had been smiling...and she knew her friends were together, which was enough for her.
/I kill you, I'm not gonna crack./
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
WELL, that ending, story let alone, sucked! I DO have an excuse, though; I wrote it out of pure boredom when I was half asleep at five in the morning. I was going to write a burial scene, but I thought the smiley thing would be enough. And the ending was supposed to be kinda dry and weak, mind you, to reflect exactly how they all felt...I mean, wouldn't you be kind of, I see all but feel nothing of it after two really close people killed themselves, and like only ten hours apart? Seriously, I WOULD THINK your mind and spirit would be kind of....deadened. I think. Anyway, R & R, don't sugar-coat it, and....just don't be TOO hard, I know it sucks, I'm just under a lot of stress right now, okay? In other words, don't cuss me out, just put it nicely but not sugar coated...okay, you know what dammit? BE HONEST! There. Thankies! (Oh yeah; song quotes in the story are from Green Day and Nirvana :) )
________________________________________________
I've this creeping
Suspicion that things are not as they seem
Reassure me
Why do I feel as if I'm in too deep
I've been praying
For some way to show them I'm not what they see
Yes I have done wrong
But what I did I thought needed to be done
I swear
~Dave Matthews Band
__________________________________________________
:{Thoughts} [Conscience/mind kinda thing] (Italics for lyrics insert, for subconscienceness, sorta):
Flicker.
Balance unstable, she'd sat down, vision blurred by hot tear-flames.
Flicker.
Somewhat quivering lips leaked short, shaky breaths.
Flicker.
Flame of the single white candle dancing in her eyes, she'd wrapped the blanket tighter around her shivering, frighteningly pale body. She could vaguely feel its warmth, paying no heed to the tingling now galloping through her veins. Sudden shivers bounded up her frail spine, and she had let out a quick gasp, from the cold or from her heart she couldn't quite tell.
The candle flickered again.
Her cheeks had, at that point, become warm enough, the seemingly burning liquid spilling over saddened, half-shut eyes. Hands still shaking, she'd gingerly set the fountain pen atop a gracefully written letter, glancing out the window as it clicked against the cream marble. Frigid eyes moved along swiftly, waltzing with the snowflakes drifting through her open window; she liked the cold. It had always been there to remind her that something was closer to ice than she, herself. Of which she'd been grateful.
Her gaze had then swept back to her pale hand which rested on the cold stone, rolling seven small white things in her hand. The color didn't differ enough from her skin for comfort. Still the tiniest bit indecisive, she read over the letter once again. It had to be perfect. She wouldn't have it any other way.
She reached down next to her, fingering for the paper bag - heard it crumple - brought it back up.
{It's not my fault...} She'd told herself again. {This was really his choice, you know.}
[What do you mean?] The rational part of her mind argued, [*You* let your guard down. *You* let yourself feel for him. What do you mean it's *his* fault? You're acting like he pinned you down and beat the blooming shit out of you until you felt the way you do now! And you honestly think he'd want this? Hah!]
She winced, knowing it was right, knowing this was wrong.
But she *had* to, it was for the better. ...Wasn't it?
Sad thing was, she couldn't bring herself out of that belief. She felt too guilty, alone.
{Well this isn't the *only* reason.}
[Isn't it?]
{I'm not so pathetic and desperate as to lose it over a guy! It's just *everything*, you know? My life in general. How my mother died, being beaten and thrown
(So I run to the edge of a shadow of a doubt, with my conscience
bleeding...)
over the edge by my own father, leaving me as a child of barely two to fend for myself in an orphanage? What's happened between then, what I've done, what I've become? That's a valid reason, I should think!}
[But you know a big part of it. The main reason. You know it, damn you, don't lie! It's him, how you feel for him, and how you're so sure he loves that other girl, when you don't really even know that. You've convinced yourself that-]
The itchy wool blanket fell to the ground when she slammed her fist onto the hard marble, trying to shut out her mind. She closed her numbing hand around the small pills, moved her eyes again to the tiny picture of "him" and his bright, shining eyes and handsome face. His fault. He was the one who had broken through the barrier and stolen her heart; he was the one she could never have. She blamed herself for that.
The young woman popped the sour, freezing pills into her mouth. She flinched once at the awful taste, grimacing, then let them dissolve as she closed her eyes. She heard a few tears splash onto the crisp paper, and hoped it didn't smear anything. That she couldn't afford. They all needed to know. She also brushed away any tear that may be left, for fear that they would see she'd cried. But how did that make sense? Not wanting to be seen crying, yet being seen *suicidal*? Pride, she supposed, had a way of screwing over one's mind. So did greed.
She let herself fade into her death, going over all the reasons why she'd done it, and it sounded perfectly insane. She reached up to her chest, grasping, gingerly, the rose-bud shaped necklace he'd given her for her birthday. She slumped further in her chair, more and more relaxed.
But he was the last of the world she saw; and to her, it was the world.
* * * * * * *
He was stunned.
He sat there, long after the others left. Selphie had tried her best to get him to go along with the rest of them, sad as they were, but he couldn't.
Eyes wide and gushing, he couldn't tear his gaze from the beautiful woman who lay in front of him. Short gasps and moans tumbled over each other in the back of his throat. He stroked her limp, cool hand, and bent over painfully, clutching his
(I like you, I'm not gonna crack)
stomach to try and ease the knot that was exploding there; he shut his eyelids as hard as he could, forcing out more tears, and crumpled the piece of paper in his hand. That he couldn't let go of, either.
Standing, the man loomed over the beauty's dead body, and bent forward to lightly kiss her parted, lifeless lips. It hurt even worse now. He shock and pain was growing, instead of at least slightly letting up. It wasn't surprising, either; this was a worse ache than he ever could have imagined, and was amazed he hadn't broke down in heavy, thrashing
(I miss you, I'm not gonna crack)
sobs. There *was* a reason for it.
He had to be strong for her.
He squeezed her hand, sat back down and ran his fingers through his tangled, rough hair. He opened the letter again. Read the few sentences now imprinted into his brain. They would be for the rest of his life. "...you guys...I mean...just the way you look at each other. I wanted to tell you how I felt so badly, how much I wanted you, loved you...*needed* you. But you have her, and I felt guilty for loving you that way. I know none of you would have guessed it...I did, though, I do right now, and I'm sure even after death I'll feel the same. Please, just don't hate me for it. Don't hate me. I'm not sure I could handle that."
At this, Selphie had burst out in anger, screaming: "We don't HATE you, we DON'T! WE NEVER *COULD*!" and the others had just glanced her way, warily and sadly, feeling just as she was.
But not as bad as him. No...he was
(I love you, I'm not gonna crack)
devastated. *Desperate*.
{If you had only TOLD me! All you had to do was come say it to me! You KNOW damn well there was nothing between me and her! I loved you...I love you...love *you*, *you*, YOU!} His mind screeched, agonized, stricken. He almost hated her for it, what she'd done to him. She was special. Different. That's why he'd fallen for her, that's why he loved her so much, and that's why he was almost mad at the limp figure in front of him.
Her smile, her laugh, her walk, her voice, her *life*, all gone in one quick moment. And *by her own will*!
He'd tensed as he went over all this. He was standing, hands clenched into fists, eyes tightly shut, teeth gritting together. Finally, he broke down, sobbing into the woman's icy stomach. Wailing like a little kid, he was ashamed of himself. But he'd felt the same *way*, dammit, WHY?!
He groped for the box she had left for him, found it, wrapped his fingers around it. He flicked the small lid off, peering inside through puffy, swollen eyes. It was a bullet shell. The same one she'd so confidently proved his theory on women and their strength in aim. She'd struck that thing right square in the middle of the eyes on the T-Rexaur on the first try. Of course everyone in the training center at the time had laughed at him, after the big deal he'd made of it, saying she couldn't do it. At the time he'd been furious, but now it almost made him smile. He would have, too, if his emotions hadn't gone up in flames by now. He'd snapped, to say in the least.
His hands began to shake, and he dropped the small box. A small moan escaped from his throat as he reached to touch her cheek, then lightly caressed her soft lips with a calloused thumb. He looked out the window for the first time, breathing out puffs of stuttering smoke from the cold. It was fogged from all the snow and ice, reminding him of the snow-ball fight the two had had just the other day, a little more than just lighthearted flirting. How could she think...why...it just made no SENSE!! He loved her. She loved him. She was dead. He was, for the most part, now dead inside himself.
His soggy eyes drifted back to the woman's glamorous face, sorrowful in words beyond expression. He suddenly felt the urge to hold her, protect her, tumble into him; and, as any man this far gone would have no control over, he obeyed it.
It was sickening, almost; so depressing, the way he gently gathered her limp, slim body into his arms, bringing her over to a corner and curling up with her. He cradled her head, hair now down and combed, and upper body so lightly, like a small, weak child. And that's what she was, wasn't she?
The man hugged her tighter to him, resting his head on top of her own, then looking down to her face one last time.
"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudibly; it was the first thing he'd said since he'd discovered her body in her dorm that morning. He'd just picked her up, carried her to the clinic in silence, paying no attention to all the scared looks people were giving him. They'd asked questions, plenty, but he'd just brushed past them. Someone went to get the rest of the gang, of course, and the caught up to him next to the body in Dr. Kadowaki's office. They'd tried to get something out of him after the initial shock, or *in* him, in the case of eating and drinking, but they couldn't. He was in his own little world, unable to focus on anything else. And then the letter? Well, hadn't that set off the final blow! "I love you more than you'll ever know," he continued, "You know that? Love you...love. But I'll see you soon. I will. And I can tell you. Nobody's here to stop me."
He quickly grabbed his gun from the sheath, and pointed the cool, shiny metal to his left temple. He kept his eyes trained
(I kill you, I'm not gonna crack)
on the girl tucked into him, knowing the gun well enough so that it was idiocy to look. "I love you so damn much," he whispered again, and pulled the trigger.
* * * * * * *
They were in the lobby when they heard the gunshot go off. It echoed through the halls, grabbing their attention immediately. Exchanging glances, they all soundlessly agreed on what it was, and ran bloody hell to the new Garden ceremonial room, made special for all the honorable students' funerals, to go there just before the burial.
They tore through the halls, knowing, apparently, what nobody else did; they guessed everyone assumed it was just a practice shot. The whole Garden was used to that by far now.
When they got to the big white room, Selphie was first in the door, eyes wide, alarmed.
"The body is gone," she heard Squall's deep, commanding voice behind her.
"Where did-" Ellone began, but stopped immediately when she heard Selphie scream. They all turned to see the petite brunette with her eyes wide as hell, hands clasped over her mouth and nose.
Rinoa's eyes widened as well when she looked the direction Selphie was, "IRVINE!" She screeched, and staggered back into a chair, sitting down, mouth wide open. She'd known what happened, just didn't quite...expect it.
Zell and Squall rushed past them, dropped to their knees and examined the situation. "I...I knew it hit him hard, and I knew...but...this...I mean...he even...damn..." Zell stuttered, stunned as well. Ellone, who had come to Garden right away upon the arrival of the news, rushed to their side and skid to her knees. What she saw scared her to no end.
Irvine sat there, Quistis' body hugged to him, his arms wrapped around her protectively. His head was tilted sideways, a serene expression on his face, and a puddle of blood was starting to form by them. The gun was still in his hand, and Quistis' head was propped up on his shoulder. It was, in her opinion, rather creepy.
Selphie was now sitting down, as well. She started to cry all over again. "He even got her *body*! God, Irvy, why'd you...why....Quisty..." She choked out, then covered her eyes with her hands.
Rinoa looked at them, fear welled up into her eyes, and she couldn't look away from it; she just couldn't believe it. Two of her best friends...in *one day*...sitting there, like they were alive, and she'd never been more terrified.
Zell wasn't without pain, either. He broke down in tears, burying his face in Sis's shoulder, and she brought one hand up to stroke his hair as she stared on in disbelief. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She thought that was all she really had left in her.
Squall backed up in horror, and wanted badly to run away, escape it, mourn and cry and run away-
All of them looked to the door as a few Garden officials burst in - one of the students must have told. Selphie, Rinoa, Squall, Zell and Ellone didn't really even have time to fully develop a reaction in the short time they sat there. One of the men ordered the five kids out, and at first they couldn't move; they could only stare.
Finally, They all stood up, reluctant, and started out, asking no questions. It may have seemed cruel, to leave their friends so quickly, seconds even, after sudden death, but their nerves were shot. They were almost in a complete Nirvana, beyond everything, not totally aware of anything around them anymore.
But Selphie didn't follow. Instead, she moved forward, and stared, teary-eyed, at her two friends. Slowly, she wrapped one arm around the both of them, as if touching them, willing them to come alive, would really work. "Bye, you guys...I love ya's." A guard, not completely sympathetic, yanked her off of them, and she looked down to see a growing blood stain on her bright orange blouse. She didn't particularly care. She was only aware that the two most important people in her life was gone, and she, as well as her other friends, were completely numbed in all aspects of the word. It all happene so fast, and so...*dry*, she supposed was the right word.
"Come on," he ordered gruffly, quickly shoving her out of the room, and looked back on more time; and she could have sworn, in the last glimpse of her best friends she was allowed, that Quistis had been smiling...and she knew her friends were together, which was enough for her.
/I kill you, I'm not gonna crack./
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
WELL, that ending, story let alone, sucked! I DO have an excuse, though; I wrote it out of pure boredom when I was half asleep at five in the morning. I was going to write a burial scene, but I thought the smiley thing would be enough. And the ending was supposed to be kinda dry and weak, mind you, to reflect exactly how they all felt...I mean, wouldn't you be kind of, I see all but feel nothing of it after two really close people killed themselves, and like only ten hours apart? Seriously, I WOULD THINK your mind and spirit would be kind of....deadened. I think. Anyway, R & R, don't sugar-coat it, and....just don't be TOO hard, I know it sucks, I'm just under a lot of stress right now, okay? In other words, don't cuss me out, just put it nicely but not sugar coated...okay, you know what dammit? BE HONEST! There. Thankies! (Oh yeah; song quotes in the story are from Green Day and Nirvana :) )