Tearing the Paper
heart hahrt –noun 1. the vital center and source of one's being, emotions, and sensibilities.
Blood spatters to the ground, staining the white floor carmine red. Heavy breathing echoes through the almost-empty room, as the silver-haired youth struggles to keep moving. He staggers across the room, nearly falling several times. He gasps in pain, squeezing his eyes shut as he wraps his arm around the wound in his stomach.
The golden-haired girl merely watches him with sad eyes, as he struggles to reach her. She wants to help him, but knows she cannot. It would be better for both of them if he never reaches her. But still, she refuses to break the thread of life. She wants to see what he will do– wants to see if he still loves her.
Aquamarine eyes flutter open again, as he forces himself onward. Three-quarters of the way there now, he renews his efforts, painfully taking each step forward. Finally, he reaches his destination and collapses at her feet, splashing blood on her shoes and the hem of her dress. He stares up at her from where he lays, and whispers the words she both wishes for and dreads hearing: "I love you."
Tears fill her eyes, and she replies, "I'm sorry, I never wanted this to happen."
He forces a pained smile and says quietly, "It's not your fault."
"Yes, yes it is," she cries, crystal tears spilling over onto her cheeks, trickling down to splash to the ground and mix with the crimson blood, turning it cerise.
"Don't you remember?" he asks. "You can't do anything wrong in my eyes." He stretches a hand up to dry her tears, but it 1falls short and he drops it back down. He gazes at her with hazy eyes, as his vision dims and murmurs, "Don't cry for me. I want to see you smile."
But how can she smile at a time like this? She tries, anyway, and manages a sort of half smile through her tears.
"Thank you," he whispers. "That's all I wanted." He reaches out again, and this time takes hold of her hand and places something in it. Then, his hand slides back and falls to the ground, as his aquamarine eyes close, never to be open again.
She lets out a soft cry, tears cascading down her cheeks. She wants to scream her pain to the world, but she cannot. She must hide her pain, and hide it well. Blinking back the tears that blur her eyes, she tilts her head down and stares at the pale yellow crane in her palm. She holds it up, then takes hold of it on either end. She pulls sharply, tearing it in two– destroying not only the paper, but the memories of a silver-haired youth, and the heart she wasn't supposed to have.
"You're free now," she whispers, clutching the tattered remains of the yellow bird to her non-existent heart, knowing that he now has something she never will. "You're free."
The end.