Author: Kimberly Sims PM
Very short piece about a girl fighting with the words people say. "It would be best, you say, if I were to leave here forever."Rated: Fiction K - English - Hurt/Comfort/Spiritual - Words: 512 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 08-15-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3050662
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Breathing is difficult.
Each piece of paper torn falls back down onto the bed.
It's very frustrating.
Long hair slips back, dancing off of the girl's shoulder. Eyelids are closed, facing the ceiling.
I hear everything.
Lips part as breath is drawn in, filling her lungs.
You have a lot to say about me.
Chest lowers, air escaping back out through her nostrils.
You tell me that who I am is not good enough.
Stray pieces of hair lift upwards, driven by the leaving breath.
Your words, taunting me.
Eyelashes part slightly, their dark covering opening just enough to allow her eyes to see an image.
Whispering that I'm no longer needed.
They freeze, another breath causing her chest to rise again.
That I have to be alone, forever.
Rushing air picks up long locks of hair as her body moves suddenly backwards.
That my work was in vain.
The mattress emits a soft thump of resistance to the unexpected weight.
It would be best, you say, if I were to leave here forever.
Strands of hair hang precariously over the edge, dangling with nothing to hold to.
I can hear it all.
Teeth grate against each other in desperate efforts.
I can hear the promises you didn't keep.
Hot salty liquid hesitated, gently beginning to reach out to black eyelashes.
I never forgot how it felt each time you left me here on my own with these words.
A mangled noise came from her mouth, breathing sounding jagged.
But I can hear more than your voice.
Tears made their quick escape, running down her cheeks.
I can hear another voice, however quiet it is.
Wet eyelashes part more, giving more clarity to the eyes that search upwards.
I don't hear it as often as I do the things that hurt, the poison from your mouth.
Sniffling sounds crack violently through the relative silence, mucus being cleared.
These words are the way I have continued to hold on.
Now cold liquid dripped onto the blanket past its previous hesitation.
You say that my life has a reason.
Soft hands rise from their place at her sides and brush away the tears.
You say You love me, that You made me.
Another unstable breath makes its way in and out of her lungs, lips quivering slightly.
When everyone drowned out my voice and covered their ears, You said 'I hear you'.
Dark brown eyes take in the ceiling, glistening.
Now You tell me to breathe, to live.
Still-wet eyelashes collide together momentarily, blinking.
I'm finding it difficult to live... but You give me life.
Hair slips across the surface of the bed, being pulled by her movement onto her side.
I hear the voices of the past sometimes... and I find it hard not to listen to them.
Pieces of torn paper fall slowly to the ground, descending from the heights of the sleeping place.
For You, who has loved me... who loves me still... I will live.
Lips pull upwards at their corners and eyes return to their shut state.