The table overturned,
the glasses crash to the floor.
The blood red liquid already seeping through the cracks inbetween the maple floorboards.
Griffin smashes the glistning bottle on the end table.
He turns towards me, rage filled eyes that almost pierce my skin.
I stand my ground, without even thinking I remove a gleaming, silver dager from the dark leather holster on my waist.
My hand poised towards Griffin, the dagger shimmering in the candle light.
I take a step towards him, the tiny flames dancing, as if they were daring me to lunge at him.
My heart pounding, sweat dripping of my forehead.
I try to picture what my oponent is contemplating.
Suddenly, without warning, something from behind knocks me to the ground.
The dagger launched into the table, lodging itself there.
I look up, MY OWN BROTHER, Skye, towers above me.
I fail to make sense of the situation, expecting to wake up any moment now.
I hear Griffin's footsteps shuffle closer towards me.
In one swift movement Skye pins me down, hard agains the cold floorboards.
The shuffling stops, Griffin now above me in Skye's place.
In a split second, Griffin launches the half-wine bottle into my thigh.
I scream and struggle, no one can hear me.
The wine bottle is removed from my thigh, Griffin discards it with a sickening smirk on his face.
Skye releases me, already I feel weak from blood loss, I cant get up.
The pain is unbelievable, never have I expierienced a pain like this before.
Not just my thigh, but the betreal of my brother and only friend is equally as hurtful as the flesh wound itself.
Griffin & Skye, not showing any remorce,
leave me, shaking on the floor.
More red liquid now finding its way through the gaps in the floorboards, only this time it's the wine of the Dead.
A car outside pulls away with an erie screach, at that very moment a gust of wind blows through the open window, extinguishing the dancing flames...
.....Sitting on the peeling bench, my back to the wind. My head cloudy like the grey sky above, my once black hair now a deep magenta from the blood wound on my scalp, I begin to feel dizzy. Rain pathetically falls through the needles of the large pine trees either side of me. Their old branches creak like my aching bones.
The wind picks up, blowing dust into my eyes, coughing up blood I hear a soft, calm voice.
"Your a mess".
I ignore it, probably just the wind combing with my tainted sense of reality. Twigs begin to snap behind me, I swing round, painfully, almost loosing my balance. What I had heard was no wind.
Now matter how obscurred my vision, I will always be able to recognize him, Rey. Standing tall, his blue grey jacket flying in the wind.
"Your a mess", he repeated, this time not so calmly.
My jaw dropped, almost swallowing my tongue as Rey slowly lifted a silver revolver out of his pocket, along with two bullets. Treating the gun as if it was going to come alive any moment, he slides the bullets into the shiny barrel.
"I can't stand to see you like this",
"In so much pain, I can see it in your eyes, you've had enough".
Now struggling to breathe, whether it was the almost personified revolver or my broken body, I don't know. Rey was always strong, sometimes to strong, this was one of those times. He took a small but swift step closer.
"Don't worry, your misery will be over soon, I will end your suffering".
Even if I wanted to, I couldn't escape Rey in my current state. The revolver meets my cold empty heart. Rey began putting pressure on the trigger, slowly. At that moment something inside the warehouse detonated. The blast pushing Rey and I to the ground instantly, shrapenel carving us up as we fell. Birds evacuating the trees and dogs began howling like wolves. In the corner of my eye I see it, the revolver, dust covered and chipped. I look up in the direction of the warehouse, now in more pain than ever........
Sitting in a tight ball on the ground, my grey sleeves rolled up, my stiff collar turned down.
The first insult is thrown, sharply embedding itself into my dying heart, I'm speechless, just sitting, clenching my battered notebook tightly in my shaking hands. My heart carved up, bleeding profusely from the daggers that are your words.
Rising to my feet, blowing a few strands of dark brown hair from my face. I try feebly to hold back the pain and imminent tears. Dislodging a dagger from a shard of my heart, propelling it back towards him, it barley breaks through his cold, lifeless skin. Sometimes I wonder what happened to his soul, even doubting it ever existed. In seconds, several daggers come soaring back towards me, simultaneously they pierce and shatter the remaining portion of my heart, scaring me deep, almost irreparably.
Both out of daggers, metaphors are lost, diving into each other, I land above him. Kicking and flailing, fear in his hollow brown eyes, a burning hatred in mine. He and I both realise I'm now in control, finally I have the edge. I jam my shoulder into him, jolting him backwards. Now on his own accord he keeps vigilantly slinking further and further away, oh how small he now seems.
I notice the grass stains on his twisted trousers, his shirt looking as if it was about to constrict him, one shoe lace untied and matted blond hair. Looking down upon myself, my clothing just as dire, although inside I am broken, hurting and grieving your death, Bec.
Then he strikes, kicking me weakly in the leg. Reluctantly I retaliate, hitting him twice, not so much as to inflict pain on him, but to say Im no longer afraid.......not afraid anymore.
Then nothing, it's over, for him at least. He retreats staggering awkwardly away. Emotionally to broken to pursue the bastard, I fall lifelessly, into my knees. No longer able to hold back my tears, my faded jeans absorbing my sorrow. Lifting my left hand, I blindly feel around for my notebook. Without looking up, I know and regret what I have found. Instead of pages bearing my broken dreams my hand lies on blood covered pieces of my shredded heart and dying aspirations, scattered during the conflict.
Just wanting to die, ignoring all offers of compassion, silently sobbing, just wanting to drown in a river of my own despair. This treacherous Monday seeming to last a fucking eternity;
Bec..........if only you could have stayed an eternity instead.
NOTE: If By Any Chance You Want To Use Anything Of Mine Please Ask First Before Stealing...I Might Say Yes..:-P AND Im sorry if my grammar isn't perfect or if something sounds a little out of place oneday i vow to fix this.