I run, screaming, into my room, slamming the door shut with a loud bang. My heart screams along within my fragile chest, twisting, tugging, wrenching, praying to escape it's horrific bounds and be set free. I think of you and him, and my screams hurtle out of my mouth, setting my throat raw, but the pain is nothing compared to how you crush my soul into pathetic pieces.
My hands grope the space around me frantically, searching for anything it can lay home to. I rip away the posters on my wall, I throw the books off of my desk, my ears deaf towards the crashes that follow. Madness consumes me as I absolutely wreck my room.
Cool tears continue streaming down my hot, flushed face. I can't escape. You're still there, haunting me with your perfection. Your angelic smile sears through my mind like a poison-tipped sword, your honey-brown eyes that once brought joy to the heart now causes excruciating pain, and I swear I can hear you voice whisper its sweet nothings into my ear. I tangle my fingers in my hair and pull, pull, pull, hoping it would dull the aching pain within me. It does not.
My mind finally catches up with the exhaustion it put my body to, and I slump against the wall, barely breathing, and sink towards the ground. I dig my face into the palms of my hand, hoping it would hide me from reality. I think of your hair, and it turns to him, he who would be combing it through with his fingers; your pale cheeks, and I see his filthy, calloused hands stroking it gently; your dainty fingers, and my vision goes red as my mind wanders to dangerous places in which you intertwine them with his; and I see your thin, lovable lips, and I see him kissing them...
My head snaps up with that thought, and I catch myself in the mirror. My ink-black hair sticks up in places and is matted with sweat, my eyes are red and hideous to look at. Dried tear stains outline foreign patterns on my cheek. A part of me refuses to believe that that person is me. He couldn't be. I'm not that pathetic.
But I am.
Do you see what you have reduced me to, baby? To nothing but someone of pity?
I can't stand you now. I can't stand him either. I can't stand myself.
My eyes fleet towards the gun that nestles on the floor after my blind rampage. Shaking, I crawl towards it slowly, and I feel its cool metal within my grasp.
My brain works its sickening wonders without me conscious of my actions. The next thing I know, I'm staring at my recording camera, the gun ready in my palm, resting the muzzle against my temple. I'm completely calm now, nothing hurts, but nothing's okay either.
It's numb. It's cold. My lips curl into a ghostly smile as my eyes train on the camera lens.
"Do you see what you have reduced me to, baby?"
Silence overwhelms me as I pause for a response that won't ever arrive.
"I love you."
Eyes squeezing shut, I pull the trigger.
...
It's numb. It's cold.
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