| Subject: .:. I cant. I've gone numb.:. |
Author:
Zeth
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Date Posted: 18:57:59 05/03/05 Tue
In reply to:
Sabra
's message, "I can feel it.." on 12:31:07 04/26/05 Tue
.:. Her words issued out into the darkness that they shared completely alone. The thought that she had no past, no memories, no love was foreign to him. Why didn’t she? She had a past. Just not a great one. He hadn’t had a great one either. But he had one. His body relaxed once the knife was brought to a rest at her side. The heavens above gave out a terrifying scream of thunder, clashing down upon their ear drums as they shivered in slight awe and fright. Then, without warning, the heavens let down a downpour that had the bastard drenched within moments. Why they hadn’t noticed the moisture in the air wasn’t a thought even considered at this moment while his arms stretched gently outward and rested on either of her upper arms. He held her there, afraid to move her forward and shove her back. “I don’t know why.” He set out his cards on the table, fanning them with skill. This might not lead to a hot, wild night behind a closed door- but maybe a friendship. They’d both seen the barren wasteland of life and could share the comfort of another. He needed it. She obviously did too. Then couldn’t they just share these tender moments understanding each others hearts completely? Why was the world such a horrible place filled with back stabbing bastards and cheap prostitute whores? Why did the rain have to cast down upon thousands of people just like them? As if heaven itself was spitting down on their pitiful attempts at living life. Zeth’s hair clung to his forehead; his body chilled by the drizzle that descended from above. The darkness completely enveloped their bodies now. The blue tint of light wasn’t much to see anything by. Deangelo inside the window might still be watching, but their figures would be blurred by the surging streams of water rolling down the streaked window. The rain on the roof would be deafening too, like it always was during a heavy pour. .:.
.:. He held her at arm’s length for a moment, his left arm slowly creeping down her right, sculpted arm until it came to the blade’s handle. And then easily, softly, he opened her fingers from around it in hopes of letting it fall to the grate beneath their feet and launch itself, blade down, there until they needed it again. He wasn’t absolutely sure that she would just drive it into his belly. But it was worth it if she let go so he could bring her closer to his shivering frame. She had to be cold too, right? His black shirt was clinging to his chest, showing every sculpted detail of his design to her. What do you say? Let go of the knife and let’s bury the pain together…:.
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