By Chelsea a.k.a. Wishkres
Rated: PG-13
Author's Notes: This popped into my head at 11:30 last night and wouldn't leave me alone until I got up and wrote it. Honestly, inspiration comes at the worst times... It's pretty short, and I'd really appreciate reviews. I haven't tried a writing like this for a long time, and what can I say? It was fun. Maybe some motivation will show up more often.
Midnight.
Everyone else was sleeping; wasn't that the way it was supposed to be? She closed her eyes and sighed; reopened them and saw nothing different. Dark. Black. Entirely. She felt like the last person left on earth, a soul surviving a long battle and the only one around to tell her tale. Of course, if that were true, she mused, she obviously wouldn't have anyone to tell it to, would she?
It didn't matter. The dusk, the night -- it was her own world.
Evil. Menacing. Dangerous. All words used to describe the witching hour, but she didn't believe it. She was alive in the gloom, confident, invincible -- surely if it made her feel so good, surely it couldn't be all that bad? It was an obsession -- an addiction -- and she drank it in. She needed this. She needed this...
Didn't she?
The night was forgiving, so unlike the day. During the day, she wasn't alone. There were people, lots of people; people talking, laughing, teasing, arguing, screaming... She hated the noise, and there was so much of it. What did they say, silence was golden? She agreed, although she never did like gold. Gold dealt with riches, and riches dealt with corruption. She had enough of that.
Plus, at daytime there was light. She had nothing against light; she embraced it, loved the moon, loved the stars -- especially the stars. She obsessed over the way the street lamps made the wet roads shimmer, how the headlights made the world gleam... But, she knew, there could be too much of a good thing, and with light, that's the way it was. People looked, people saw, and if people didn't like what they saw, you were a goner. A failure. During the night, it didn't matter -- everyone was the same. Equals.
A car passed her home, and the sudden flash from its headlights illuminated her room. She watched a picture frame suddenly emerge in the light and vanish from sight as quickly as it appeared. She knew what was in the frame; a photo, a photo of her and her friends.
Well, once her friends at least. She wondered why she still had it after all this time; she wasn't holding onto false hope, not her. They didn't care about her, they told her so. That was one of the many facts they made very clear besides the ones about how worthless and foolish she was. They didn't care. She didn't care.
She didn't care. She didn't.
She pushed them from her mind. They didn't matter; they weren't worth it. It was the night that mattered. The beauty of darkness. The beauty of being lonely -- no, not lonely, she reminded herself, she was never lonely. She was alone, alone by choice. Her decision, not theirs. Hers and the decision of the night, the darkness that accepted her for who she was, the blackness that took her in and made her stronger.
No, the night was not evil, she thought. It was the only good thing left in the world, an escape from the torturous existence called reality. It was quiet... calm... at night. Peaceful, yes, that was the word. Peace. World peace for only a few hours everyday, but always there. Who would dare call the night gloomy? It just proved that people didn't understand, she explained to herself. They couldn't see good if it slapped them in the face, like when she hit her best friend at school when her mind accepted the truth of all the horrible things her friend had done, such as spreading rumors, doing drugs, stealing her boyfriend away forever...
She practically choked on that last thought. No, no, don't think about them, she willed herself, don't think about that. They don't matter; you do. Get over it. Relax. You're free... But she wasn't free; she was oppressed by her memories. Her friends weren't torturing her anymore, she was. Why couldn't she forget?
How many times had she asked why?
She finally crawled out of bed, disgusted by the fact that she allowed such trivial things to haunt her mind. Pacing across the room, she chanted the same idea through her head: They don't matter. He doesn't matter...
In her preoccupation, she failed to notice her shoes on the floor and tripped, not only causing herself to stumble to the ground but also spilling the contents of her jewelry box all over herself and the floor. Cursing, she stood up, wholly aware how much of a mess and racket she made. So much for silence, she scoffed, and so much for solitude. Pausing, she was puzzled when nobody rushed up to her room to find out what was going on.
Then again, maybe she wasn't surprised; she knew her so-called friends didn't care, why would her family be any different?
She was about to start cleaning up the mess, even in the dark, but she suddenly realized she held a small ring in her hand. Funny, she didn't notice before, must have landed there when she fell, she pondered absentmindedly. She rubbed her fingers along the smooth edges, only to find a rough spot on it that felt like numbers or letters or something. She froze. An engraving...?
Trembling, she held the ring up to the little light provided from the streetlights outside her window. Even in her unlit room, she could see the silver band sparkling in the miniscule light, and the image confirmed what she already knew. It was the ring. Her ring. His ring. She murmured the words etched on the ring and her heart:
"To love forever and always."
Pain. Her mind flashed back to that day only a few months past, the day her life began and the day it ended. She remembered his smile, his nervous stuttering words when he finally gave her the ring that secured their relationship, and then afterwards, the taunting, no, cruelty from her friends when they abandoned her because "she deserted them for him" in their words. Lost in her flashbacks, she saw her friends leaving for their stupid party, already drunk, and her beloved trying to stop them... and the arguing... and their know-it-all decision to leave even if he wouldn't step out from in front of the car... and the "accident," the accident that shouldn't have been fatal because it was stupid and happened in the middle of the afternoon...
She choked back a sob. No, no, don't think about it, she begged her mind. Please...
It could've been prevented. It was senseless; it was an argument.
She could've stopped it.
"To love forever and always."
Forever. Always. The words mocked her... was forever only a day? Was that all the time she was meant to have for eternal love? A day? One day?
She hated the day.
She had enough of this; no peace during the day, now none at night. She was going to go back to bed -- forget the jewelry, forget the ring -- get some sleep -- forget the nightmares -- and be happy -- forget everything. She almost succeeded, but then she saw his face, his silly grin, and oh... his eyes...
She couldn't block it this time. No more resistance; no more fighting.
Finally, for first time after the accident, she cried.
Again, reviews, flames, et cetera are highly appreciated. Don't I deserve it after losing three hours of sleep because of this thing?