For Bunny. Thanks for everything and no matter what happens, you’re still one of my bestest friends. You rock. -Kitty

Love Kills

He was her best friend, until her feelings for him had begun to develop. Their fathers and mothers had been good friends ever since their high school years and made them hang out ever since they were babies. Thus, they confided their secrets in each other, asked each other for advice on the opposite sex, and helped each other in their homework. They were practically inseparable when they were still in junior high. In high school, all the students had thought they were a couple.

Him with his spiked yet seemingly messy hair, toned and muscled body, perfect features and mesmerizing gray eyes; her with her flowing red-gold hair, to-die-for figure, baby’s complexion and gleaming eyes the color of dawn’s clearest, darkest blue. Did they not look a perfect couple? Everyone used to say as they walked past together. Until she cleared everything up by dating that jock – Damien. He had also dated tons of many other girls who willingly threw themselves at his feet. And she too, with guys who willingly became her slaves who came at her beck and call.

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“Do you really think it will work?” The voice in the phone sounded wary, worried ad confused. The girl sighed in exasperation for the fiftieth time during that conversation. She snapped back wearily, “Am I a girl, or am I not?” the voice gave a cheeky reply, “Oh! I never knew you doubted your sexuality! Ha, thanks anyway.” He hung up. The girl replaced the phone in its cradle and clenched and unclenched her fists, trying not to let herself be consumed by jealousy. Why did she have to help him get the girl he wanted when all she wanted, was him? Why did she have to go green with envy each time she saw him holding another girl in his arms? Oh how much she wanted those arms to be wrapped around her instead! No, it would never do for him to know that. She would not let a beautiful friendship be ruined by saying something stupid. Her mother called. She got up and left the phone’s side.

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“Am I a girl or am I not?” he heard her exasperated response from the phone. He laughed and gave a cheeky response before thanking her and hanging up. He stared at the phone in his hand. Did she realize that the girl he was trying so hard to woo was her? Did she know how fast his feelings for her had blossomed? Did she know just how long he had been yearning to hold her, love her like all the other guys? Did she know, just how much he wanted to bash all the guys who had held her before? Did she know he wanted so much to be those guys? But no, he would never let her know that, at least until he had finished preparing the stuff she said girls wanted guys to have. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t even confess his feelings for her. He wasn’t about to give up a great friendship by saying something stupid. He threw the phone on the bed and left the house.

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They walked past each other in the hall and waved. He with a pretty blonde and she with a tall, suave guy. They smiled and nodded, their partners too, but in their hearts, they ached to be that guy/girl holding their hands. The girl’s boyfriend leaned down and gave her a kiss on her cheek. She smiled sweetly at him and glanced over at her best friend, hoping that he would perhaps be a little jealous. To her immense disappointment, he leaned down too and kissed his girlfriend on the top of her head. Her heart wrenched as the two couples went separate ways. She never knew that he was masking his sadness. And he never knew that she did not enjoy the kiss. That night she called him.

“Heya…”

“What do you want?”

“Can’t I even call to talk?”

“Oh, sorry was busy doing an essay.”

“Then I think I better not disturb you.”

“No! It’s alright, really, talk to me, I’m bored too.”

“So, what’s your girlfriend’s name? She’s pretty.”

“Of course she is! She’s called Enya. And your boyfriend?”

“Wilfred. Look, I gotta tell you something… I…”

“Hey girl, I really got to finish this essay. I’m sorry, talk tomorrow?”

“… Yea, sure. Bye.” She hung up. Why did he have to stop, just when she was about to confess her love for him? A love she would so willingly died for. For the first time in years, she cried her eyes out. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had really been there for her all through her troubled times, or maybe it was because her feelings for him had been kept so long they just grew stronger. She fingered the razor on her desk. She had wanted to do it so much. But he was the one who kept it away from her.

Watching it glint under the desk light, she ran her thumb over the edge. So pretty, so smooth, so sharp, so clean, so desirable, I want it to touch me… she thought, pricking the tip of her forefinger deep. A tiny ruby red drop appeared. She dropped to the pure white ground. Gingerly, she touched the drop on the ground and watched as words began forming. The blood kept coming, never stopping. It was a marvel that the words remained on the ground. When she was done, she sat back on her feet and picked up the razor again. She placed the edge on her arm and began to carve their names into her skin. She watched the blood spill, then clot and then placed the razor against her wrist. As it flashed once, her vision swam with blood, and felt her head burst with pain. The phone rang. She picked it up, her eyes still fixated on the red trail down her arm. She heard his frantic voice.

“I love you.” She whispered and dropped the phone on the ground.

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The guy gripped the cellphone so hard his knuckles turned white. He was such an idiot, a big big idiot! The tears almost spilled when she didn’t pick up. How could he have been so dumb? She must have had wanted to say something important, tell him her troubles and he had cut her off. His footsteps quickened as he neared her dark house. She picked up the phone. He babbled something incoherent even to himself and broke into a sprint when he heard her speak into the phone.

“I love you.”

“CRAP!” he screamed as the cellphone fell from his hands when he tried to pound the door open. There was no one in the house besides her, he remembered. Bracing himself, he shouldered the door and crashed through it. Years of rugby had certainly trained him well. Ingnoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder, he ran into her bedroom and cried out in anguish when he saw her body on the ground, her red-gold hair fanned out behind her in a multitude of color. He read the message she had left to him through a film of tears:

Did you know, how much I love you?

Did you know, how much I need you?

Did you know, how much my heart ached when you hurt me?

Did you know, how hard it was for me to stay silent, when you were with those girls?

Did you know, how many silent tears I have cried for you?

Did you know, how many silent screams I screamed for you?

Did you know, how many silent nights I spent without talking to you?

But whatever it is I still love you. I love you so much I died for you. I’ll watch over you at Heaven’s Gates.

He roared in despair and fell on his knees before her, and cradled her in his arms when he noticed their names carved on her arm. He spotted the razor, still stained in her blood. He grabbed it, and carved the names in his arm too, barely feeling the pain even as his blood flowed like a river. Dipping a finger into his pool of blood, he wrote something on the ground next to her message. Her slashed the razor across his wrist too, and hugged her to him. He left for eternity, with her in his arms, and their hands intertwined.

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They found the two bodies twined together in a small pool of blood, and the messages they left.

“LUCIFER AND SERAPHINA. I LOVED HER, SHE JUST DIDN’T KNOW.”

What the onlookers never knew was that there had been two pools of blood, but they had mingled together. Forever.

END