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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1307705-Tell-Me-Theres-Still-A-Tomorrow
by Mimzy
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #1307705
A women that could not live with the pains of love...
The Decision

Rain drops fall from the tee on top of my black soaked hair. Everything was so gray and everything was so cold . . . even me. My eyes avert toward my left wrist that holds healed scares that were inflicted by these very hands. And I couldn’t help but wonder . . .

‘Why I am still living? Why am I still fighting? I have nothing anymore . . . everything is gone now that HE left. He left me all alone in my mind, my soul and my heart. He took everything of me that I gave when he was by my side and now he still has everything because I can’t seem to get it back. What can I do now? What options do I have left?’

I felt a grim half-hearted smile spreading on my face because I know what I am . . .

‘I’m a terrible person; it just took someone to help me see why . . . It just took HIM to help me see why . . .’

As things race through my mind, I find that I’m trying to grasp onto memoirs of him and me. Memoirs of me sitting at the end of his bed and him on the other side typing away on my computer flying away to a different place where I didn’t exist and someone else did.

‘I always stared at him from across the bed hoping that maybe he could see that I was trembling inside. That I was shacking out of fear and pain. That I was dying inside. But he couldn’t see any more . . .’

I raise my head, now resting against the tree, toward the still crying sky. Everything in me was once again lost. Everything in me and around me was always lost when I heard him speak his words, “You’re not my best friend, you’re not anything  . . . ”; when I read his words “I hate you . . .” I raise my hand to my face wiping away the rain that drip dropped down or the tears that were falling from my eyes I couldn’t tell.

‘Tears were usually warm . . . Nothing I felt any more was warm and that poured out of me. All I can pour out now and can feel is the bitting cold.’

I look around me finding nothing but puddles, dead leaves, and yards of dead grass. I suppose I was searching for something to give me a ray of hope. There was none that could be found.

‘I can’t find Smiles anymore, I can’t hear the laughter inside my head any longer, and love . . .’

I bent my head down in either defeat or agony.

‘Love is dead . . .’ I couldn’t help but want to sob out or scream out at that fact. But I fought it like I always did. I bit down on my lip and tell my self not to cry. I try to tell my self that it’s not worth crying anymore. I lost that fight as usual and I screamed out to the world. I screamed out to the wind and the rain. I cried out to the trees and the dying leaves. I cried out to anyone that would hear me . . . To anything that would listen to this one person’s agony. I cried out to myself.

‘Why am I still here? What am I doing? . . .’

Usually at this point I would tell myself that I need to live, that I should live. That I shouldn’t stop laying those bricks of mine to make a path as we all do.

‘But what path does that take us to? Is it to our own Eden’s Garden?’ I filled myself with hope at that question. I could feel it moving from my mind toward my heart but that didn’t last for long.

‘There’s no such place for this lonely girl’ I thought. I forced my self to get up one last time. I forced myself to walk back home. To walk back home where postponing the inevitable of ceasing to lay my bricks would no longer be postponed. To walk back home where death would be waiting to greet me . . .



The End of Me
         
No one was home as usual it was a perfect time for my death. It’s better when no one is there, no one can stop you or prevent you from death. I lay in bed, hair still soaked, next to a desk with glass that’s half empty water and a now empty Advil bottle. My last task was the blade.

‘How shall I cut through my skin . . .  should I leave a farewell message on it to him . . . ?’

My heart sank when he entered my mind. The confusion of his feelings for me could not stop my heart from aching whether it should be from a broken heart or the overdose. Both can be said true now. With a withered and abused heart, I grab my salvation to free me of this pain and just before it slid onto my left wrist my phone rang. I should have kept going. I shouldn’t have answered when I saw it was you, but I did.

I try my best to act as if nothing is wrong, but as I said my simple word, “Hello . . . ” he knew nothing was right and everything was wrong.

Before I can refuse, he said back simple words, “I’m coming.”

All I felt was fear at the end of our conversation. Fear of what he coming here would lead to. Would he hate me more . . .  would he finally stop confusing me and tell me how he feels? It wouldn’t matter anymore; the drugs were slowly taking their effect. The pain in my stomach was growing slowly. Soon enough there was banging at the door.

“Let me in! It’s me! Please!”

I cried as he banged at the door, as he pleaded with me to let him in. ‘But I did let him in many times and look what happened. Another broken promise of I’ll love you forever . . . ’

“Go away! Let me die alone!”

As the words left my dry lips he realized what I said and with a sad but hopeful voice he pleaded, “Please . . .  tell me I can see your smile tomorrow. Tell me I can hear your laughter tomorrow. Tell me that I can still feel how warm you are tomorrow. Please . . .  tell me there’s still a tomorrow for us . . . ”

My breath was caught at the last words and I move to go stand at my front door never opening it but sinking down to my knees in pain of the drugs seeping all throughout my body.


“Us?”, I whispered as calmly as I could, “US doesn’t exist anymore my dear love. Thus, there will not be an US tomorrow. But there will be a tomorrow for you, just not for me . . . ”

As my vision blurs I close my eyes and crawl to the couch to have some help to stand once again. That was a dear mistake. I scream as pain shot right through me clenching my stomach with eyes tightly shut . . . 

‘The drugs, How simple and small yet so deadly and painful.’

As I fell back down the door broke open and there he stood what I could make out at least was his figure and… his sent. I can’t help but smile at it. How comforting it could sooth me each time. How I always loved its engulfing embrace.

He yells out my name as he moves quickly to hold me from the ground, “Please . . .  you have to see tomorrow with me.”

‘Why?’ I want to say. ‘You don’t need me. You never needed me! Not as much as I needed you . . . ’ but I couldn’t say it the pain was too much. The only thing I could do was raise my shacking hand and lay it gently on his cheek. I can’t tell if I’m still crying or if he’s the one that’s pouring tears on my face. Despite the anger and sorrow I felt towards him I felt as if I still needed to comfort him. No matter what I was angry at him for I could never be fully angry at him to the point of hated. I wanted to comfort him with an embrace but I couldn’t do that I was weak enough just merely laying my hand on his warm cheek. The thing that I know that I will miss most is his sent and his warmth that he held. I couldn’t have it any more though even when alive for just the fact that he wouldn’t allow it.

“I lied when I said that I didn’t love you anymore . . .  and I lied because I love you. I wanted you to get over me. I wanted you to find someone better. I’m sorry . . .  Please don’t die. Don’t leave me . . .  Alone. I have no one else but you. I beg you! Please! I love you . . .  don’t . . . leave me . . . ”
         
My hand falls down weakly from his face lying on my dying organs. ‘Lair!’ I wanted to scream. ‘You wanted to be with her! You’ve always wanted to be with her . . .  I was always second and she was always first. You might not have shown it, but I knew you always felt that way. The only reason you couldn’t have her now was because she wasn’t there yet . . .  I was your last pick. I was someone that was just on the side and the main person is too far to be with you. I was the choice of something rather than nothing.’

My chest’s rises hard with each last breath that I’m allowed to take and I couldn’t help but say my final words no matter how hard it was . . .

“Lie to me more . . . say… that you’ll always love me.... me and not HER. Tell me... that you’ll follow. Tell me... you... love... me...”

A doll rag was what was left in his arms and his sobs . . .  Everything now that was felt inside her was transferred into him . . .  And yet again there was nothing left but endless sorrow at the loss of a loved one.

Even if she couldn’t hear any longer, even if it just seemed pointless to say he whispered heavy heartedly, “I’m sorry...Maria...”

His heart sank even deeper and with eyes tightly closed, as if willing himself to stop the tears from spreading, he gave her warm lips a simple kiss. Still warm… he wanted to believe that she was still alive, that yes there was still time to save this person that he came to love. That he loved so deeply once. He couldn’t do anything though but sob even more at the reality of the world. She was gone and nothing could change that. Arms clutching her ever so tightly, with his forehead rest against the top of her hair that smelled still so fresh from the wetness that his heart wanted to jump out of his chest at another reminder that he will never be able to smell that sent again.

“I’m sorry…” he choked out, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t love you as much as you loved me… I’m sorry that the love that I did give wasn’t enough to save you… It was just enough to kill you.”

Now that his beloved has disappeared forever, so would the smiles all around him, laughter would no longer to be found near him, and love did die in him.
© Copyright 2007 Mimzy (mimzy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1307705-Tell-Me-Theres-Still-A-Tomorrow