AN: I never do angsty/depressed tragic fictions. And this isn't even how my view of this character is. But I guess I felt like doing something completely different this time. Reviews are very welcome.
Tell
Ever felt so content with a moment, that you didn't dare to speak or move because you feared you might break the spell? Every felt so lonely you wanted scream and reach out for someone, in fear that you would never be happy again? Every felt so exhausted with the game called life, that you wanted to do nothing else than to let go.
Every felt that way?
Do you remember a moment in time where you were so scared that someone might look into your soul, that you told lie upon lie to keep them back from knowing the real you? Like building a protective wall around you, only it wasn't that protective, and you only succeeded in torturing yourself and others around you.
Ever felt like you needed to say something to someone you held dear, something they really should know?
But you wouldn't.
Because you were afraid.
Afraid and tired. Scared that they might think different of you. And you decided you liked them better as friends now, living in a lie. Better than as enemies after, living your real life.
I ask you, do you remember such a moment? Did you ever feel that way?
I know I sure did.
I remember the need to tell someone something. Someone I held dear. And secrets that were too awful and terrible to tell to just somebody.
Things that were only for the few very good friends to know.
And I wanted to tell them something I wasn't even sure of myself.
To make them understand something. A feeling. That I didn't even know what it was.
And every time we talked, I felt that little voice in the back of my head. Telling me to go and say it, though I wasn't sure what I was going to say.
But you didn't.
And in time that voice got colder, and softer.
Until there was only a small memory of it somewhere deep down inside of you.
And you never told them. You never told your friends.
And then when you thought you were about to lose one of them. A quick and scary feeling gripped you from inside. Because you thought they might die without knowing the real you.
And all they would have known was a lie.
But then everything turned out fine after all. And when you saw them again. Overwhelmed with happiness that they were still alive. You didn't want to spoil the moment.
You didn't want to break the spell.
So you didn't tell them.
But the voice was back. Whispering things to you. Things that even scared yourself. Things you didn't know.
And you decided to tell them later.
Day after day, week after week. Year after Year.
The moment never seemed right.
So you didn't tell them.
And now I lay here. Looking up to their faces. All brave faces. All trying to give you the feeling that there's nothing wrong.
That everything is perfectly all right. Like it is just another Sunday evening, and they are just loosing a game of poker. Nothing for concern.
Nothing to worry about.
"You'll be all right, Mal."
I would even believe them, if it wasn't for the growing darkness at the edge of my vision. And the fact that I slowly felt the life seep out of my body.
I coughed, and was aware of the taste of blood in my mouth.
And suddenly there it was. The fear was overwhelming and it nearly paralyzed me. So much so, I had trouble breathing.
Or maybe that was just because of the little fact that I had a hole in my chest.
I was dying. And there was nothing I could do. Nothing they could do.
And it wasn't that I was scared of dying. I had more than once thought that I would die.
And it wasn't the feeling of not seeing anybody anymore. Not knowing.
No. I was afraid because, now the moment was finally there, I suddenly understood something.
I was dying.
These were my final moments, and I never told myself what I wanted to say to them.
I never understood myself.
They hadn't lived in a lie.
Malcolm Reed lived in a lie.
