|Three years and two weeks too late
Author: purplehost PM
Experimental, dark and incoherent. Thoughts of a mind in rage. I wrote it with a lot of emotion so if anyone reads this and gives me their reaction I'd appreciate it. And don't worry too much about tragedy/angst label, the character is happy in the end.Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Angst - Words: 1,059 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Published: 07-14-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2828467
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
What the hell does he fucking know? That goddamn self assured smug bastard. I want to rip his guts out and gag him with them. He's a fucking prick. He gets drunk and has the nerve to act like I'm the one with a self-control problem. He always acts like he knows what's going on. He doesn't even have a fucking clue.
At night when he makes me angry I fantasize about him dropping dead from a heart attack. I dream about him dying in a wreck or getting shot by a burglar. I smile happily until I realize it was all a dream. And then I cry.
I don't know why. Why I have to deal with that fucker. I took a vow against violence. If it weren't for the fact that he could kick my ass I would try to hurt him. Only he has this much effect on my temper. And the ignorant fuck doesn't even know it. With anyone else, no matter what they say or do, I always manage to stay composed. He rubs my nerves raw from being in his presence for mere seconds.
She promised. Not by saying anything, but I went against my gut and gave her permission. I didn't want to risk her happiness and her eyes told me that she thought he was the key to it. She lied, or he deceived, it doesn't matter anymore, only the fact that I have to face it. Her unhappiness and his behavior, all of it makes me want to kill him.
I think about how long I'll be trapped in this situation and I scream silently. My heart races out of despair and tears threaten to fall from my eyes. An entire year. Oh god. Two years have passed already, but another fucking year. I don't think I can handle it. I'll die, go insane, and massacre everyone. Oh, god. I think I need to turn into a drunk to deal with this.
My stomach is on fire, I can't eat, I can barely sleep. I don't leave my room, except to eat and do chores. My brother visits often, checking to make sure I'm alive, or so he says. I love him for it. I hate him for it. When that door is open the air that man breathed makes its way into my room.
When he touches me, no how innocent it seems I can't stand it. I want to scream, to push him away. I don't even like the people I love touching me, and physical contact with him is enough to have me in the shower boiling hot. I burn my skin and use all the soap. But I wait until he won't notice.
I'm subtle. No one knows just how much I despise him. I don't want to make her suffer anymore. And I sure as hell don't want her to feel guilty. I make sure she doesn't know how much I hate…everything.
And yeah, I fucking know it's not healthy to keep it all bottled, believe me I fucking know. My stomach burns. It burns so badly that sometimes I go into the shower and curl on the floor trying my damndest not to let the pain make me cry. And sometimes I can even succeed.
I have no privacy. Anyone who wants to come into my room can. They took the doorknob off, and replaced it with one that doesn't lock. And oh my fucking god, my head feels like it's about to explode and I think I'll die. I just try to keep it all in. And I do, mostly.
No one who looks at me actually sees it. I'm pretty sure no one cares. The way I clench and unclench my fingers when I'm near him. The way I can never eat as much food anymore. I secretly buy bottles and bottles of aspirin and Tums, trying desperately to get rid of the pain. And it works. Until I'm near him again. And then my head starts to throb and my stomach burns.
Fuck him, fuck you, fuck everyone.
It shows when I play. My hate for him. I have turned ruthless, no longer enjoying the sport. Every opponent who has the ball is him, trying to take away everything I want. And I will destroy to get what I so strongly desire. In real life, I'm too logical even in my fury to ever jeopardize my future. He's not fucking worth it, or so I snarl to myself at the height of my rage. There's no consolation in my empty words. I turned bitter like the dregs of weeks old coffee. Coffee I can't drink anymore, my stomach is always in agony. I hate him. IhatehimIhatehimIhatehim.
No matter how much I want her to be happy. No matter how despondently she asks it of me, so silently even she doesn't hear it, I can't love him. I won't love him. He destroys me, attacking at every weakness, ignoring every fucking success. Not that I would tell either of them anything. Fuckfuckfuckithurts. To even think about it, it hurts so much.
And then it happens one day.
I'm being passed around like a piece of meat until the state says I'm not their responsibility anymore.
My grades have never been higher. I was forced to quit the team, but my heart hasn't been it for a while. My stomach doesn't burn.
And I have realized.
I AM FREE.
And god, I've never felt fucking happier.
I'm beaten every day. Just another ward of the state being mistreated.
But it's different now.
Just two weeks.
I can wait.
I waited for three years after all.
Or maybe not.
I can feel myself cough and vomit.
I open my eyes.
Blood, its red, there's lots of it.
How pretty, it practically shines in the light.
Dizzy, can't breathe.
I can't wait two weeks after all.
A shame, that.
At least now,