|The Crimson Tip
Author: i-aspire PM
Just a little oneshot I wrote when for creative writing... kinda disturbing... rated M for a reason. no sex, just graphicness. "The crimson tipped nail travelled every crevice in the marred skin of her wrist" Please try! :Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Romance - Words: 953 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Published: 05-31-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2524847
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: This is just a one-shot i wrote for creative writing. rated M for a reason... its not sexual... just graphic... if you do't like graphic then don't read k? please try it out... this is the reason i wrote i wasnt emo on my profile lol. well im not!! my dad read it and he thought i was lol but im not!! these are not my feelings... these are the feelings of the characters. hope u like te french btw, i wrote it myself coz im cool :D
cutemasterofdarknessThe Crimson Tip
The long slender digits beat a steady tattoo on the marble bench top. The white collared shirt was drawn up the arms and gathered haphazardly at the elbows. She turned her arm over and traced the scars that writhed under her skin like maggots. The crimson tipped nail travelled every crevice in the marred skin of her wrist.
He pulled her wrist over to him and stared in disbelief at the perfectly parallel white raised lines that had been carved into the soft white skin. He let the wrist fall from his hand as if it disgusted him and bent over and placed his forehead on the marble, holding his face in his hands. His shoulders shook as it all overwhelmed him.
She sat, staring straight ahead, poker face fully intact, beside him as he wept. The personification of utter misery. She knew that if she looked at him, she would never be able to look at him the same way again. She realised that this was a moment for privacy, not for intrusion.
He finally sat up, brown eyes red rimmed but dry.
"Was that..." he swallowed "me?"
She nodded slowly.
"How could you?"
"You're the one that caused it. You should know why at least."
"How could I do that?" He gestured disgusted at her wrist
Her feet skittered on the cobblestones as she ran away, just ran, not knowing where she was going, not caring either. Her eyes blurred with tears and she just let them fall, pouring down her cheeks in torrents. It had to be him. She laid her heart out for him and what did he do? Took it in his hands for one moment and in that one moment she felt a crack of sunlight penetrate the darkness of her life... then he smiled cruelly, a smile that pierced into her very soul and told her it was all over. Then in front of all those people, he threw her heart on the ground and trampled over it, picked it up again and spat on it. She couldn't take it anymore and she started running.
"You don't know?"
"No! Why would I if you are just manically depressed and enjoy pain and won't tell me why! I haven't done anything!!" He spat and grabbed her shoulders. Shaking her, his red face in hers.
"It doesn't matter." She said faintly "It isn't your fault if you don't remember." She drew herself out of his clutch carefully and slowly. She walked out of the room and out of the house, only looking back at his furious, red face once. She never looked back again.
She stood in the shower, letting the hot water run over her naked body. Her tears mingled with the shower water that was cascading down her back and front. She drew her razor out of its holder on the shower wall. The sharp blades looked at her, gleaming, the water sliding off it easily. She thought about how easy it would be...
She held it up. It glided so easily across her skin... The blood beaded along the welts in the skin. The water washed away the blood but it came back. That was the satisfaction of a shaving cut, it never stops bleeding. The physical sign of pain was a relief for her. Her eyes seemed to dry up instantly, as if the creation of physical pain alleviated the pain her heart felt...
She laid there, her black hair fanned around her head like a halo with a note and a red rose clutched tightly in her left hand. In the other was clasped a knife, a sharp knife that was dripping still warm blood onto the bed next to her.
He uncurled her left hand carefully and pulled the note and rose from her still warm, limp hand and looked at the tiny specks of blood on her hand, pricked by the sharp thorns on the rose's stem. He unfolded the paper which was tied up by a crimson tipped nail with a crimson tipped ribbon.
Tu avais une petite fleure
La petite fleure était rouge
Mais maintenant c'est noir
Parce-que elle est morte
Je suis cette fleure
Je suis morte
Parce-que tu joue avec mon cœur
Je tu ai aimé, je tu aime toujours
Mais tu as joué avec mon cœur
Ainsi, c'est tout…..
Le couteau est dans mon cœur.
C'est tout et c'est tout ton défaut
You had a little flower
The little flower was red
But now it is black
Because it is dead
I am this flower
I am dead
Because you play with my heart
I loved you, I still love you)
But you played with my heart
So, this is all...
The knife is in my heart
This is all and it's all your fault)
A/N: What you think guys? I dno... it kinda disturbs me and my friends... hmm. please give me feedback! :D i like reviews! THEY MAKE ME HAPPY!! lol
well pleeeease :D