Silent Pain
One of One
Frank’s P.O.V
Dead. Amanda was dead. I was on my knees, beside her limp body, blood still oozing out of the wound in the side of her head. Blood splatter was on the wall behind her. I had seen her do it. I stared at her face. She was beautiful. Her black hair contrasted with her pale face. She looked peaceful. I knew she had wanted this. She had smiled as she pulled the trigger. I looked at the gun still clutched in her hand then back to her face.
If only I had gotten here sooner, I might have been able to stop it. Or if I had paid more attention to her. Caught any sign that she was thinking about death. About suicide.
I couldn’t help but think this was my fault somehow.
I felt tears running down my face. My best friend was dead. I got up and looked around. Was there a suicide note?
Amanda’s P.O.V.
The Previous Day
“Hey Frank,” I said into my phone.
“Hey Amanda,” Frank said. “What’s up?”
“I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out for a bit,” I said. “Watch a movie or something.”
“You know I’d love to,” Frank said. “But I have a date in a bit. With that girl I was telling you about; Jamia.”
“Oh, ok,” I said, disappointed. “Have fun and good luck.”
“Thanks,” he said. “How about we hang out tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said. “What time?”
“Umm,” Frank said, thinking. “How about one o’clock?”
“Ok,” I said. “See you then.”
“Bye,” Frank said.
“Oh, and Frank,” I said. “I love you.”
The only reply I got was the dial tone. Frank had already hung up.
Frank’s P.O.V.
Present
I looked at the gun Amanda still held in her hand. The gun that had taken her life. I looked at her other hand, noticing a folded up piece of paper held loosely in it. The suicide note, perhaps.
I kneeled down beside Amanda’s lifeless body and carefully pulled the piece of paper out of her hand. I unfolded it slowly, revealing one simple sentence:
“I love you, Frank.”
I couldn’t believe it. I crumpled up the paper and buried my face in my hands, now full out sobbing. I rocked back and forth on my knees. I lowered my hands to look at Amanda. I reached out and stroked her hair.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Amanda?” I choked out. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
My hand made contact with her face; the flesh cold. Her face was perfect. She was beautiful even in death. I let out another loud sob.
“You should have told me,” I repeated. “God, what am I saying? I should have told you.”
My hand slipped and landed in the puddle of blood around her head. I didn’t care though. I left it there and leaned down. I kissed Amanda’s cold lips. I wish I had done this while she was alive. I wish I had told her. I sat up.
“I love you, Amanda,” I said. “I love you.”
My eyes left Amanda’s face and landed on the gun still in her hand. I took my hand out of the puddle of blood to reach for the gun. I took it carefully out of her hand. I stared down at it in my hands. This felt right. I looked back at Amanda’s face and smiled. I brought the gun up to my temple.
“I love you,” I whispered. I closed my eyes tightly and pulled the trigger.
Amanda’s P.O.V.
An Hour Ago
It was two o’clock. Frank was not here.
My father’s locked wooden box, which he hid in my parent’s closet, sat on the coffee table in front of me. I held the key in my hand. Inside the box was a gun. My parents didn’t know that I knew about it. But I did. I had been looking for a pair of my mother’s shoes, which I wanted to borrow. Curious, I had searched for the key which I found easily in my dad’s bedside table. When I found out there was a gun in it, I lost interest. It was nothing I had seen myself needing...Or wanting.
But here I was, staring at the box, wanting badly to use it. I have never felt so unwanted, so hopeless before. I had had these feelings before, just not as strongly as they were now. I knew Frank didn’t love me. If he did, he wouldn’t always be chasing other girls, right? He had obviously chosen this new girl over me, or else he would be here right now. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I looked at the key in my hand then at the box. It was now or never.
The box unlocked with a click and I opened it slowly, revealing the gun inside. I picked it up slowly, feeling its weight in my hand.
I looked around, wondering where I should do this. My eyes landed on the entry way to the living room which went to the main entry to the house. I got up off the couch and walked to the main entry way of the house, facing the front door. I would be the first thing anyone saw when they entered the house. I positioned the gun on my temple, staring at the door.
Wait. I should have some sort of suicide note. I wanted Frank to at least know why I did this, if he even cared. I went to the kitchen and found a pen and paper. I wrote my note quickly. Short and sweet:
“I love you, Frank.”
I folded it neatly and went back to the entry way. I had the note in one hand and the gun in another. I positioned the gun back at my temple.
“I love you Frank,” I said out loud to myself. And just as I pulled the trigger, Frank came through the door. And I smiled.
Dead. Amanda was dead. I was on my knees, beside her limp body, blood still oozing out of the wound in the side of her head. Blood splatter was on the wall behind her. I had seen her do it. I stared at her face. She was beautiful. Her black hair contrasted with her pale face. She looked peaceful. I knew she had wanted this. She had smiled as she pulled the trigger. I looked at the gun still clutched in her hand then back to her face.
If only I had gotten here sooner, I might have been able to stop it. Or if I had paid more attention to her. Caught any sign that she was thinking about death. About suicide.
I couldn’t help but think this was my fault somehow.
I felt tears running down my face. My best friend was dead. I got up and looked around. Was there a suicide note?
Amanda’s P.O.V.
The Previous Day
“Hey Frank,” I said into my phone.
“Hey Amanda,” Frank said. “What’s up?”
“I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out for a bit,” I said. “Watch a movie or something.”
“You know I’d love to,” Frank said. “But I have a date in a bit. With that girl I was telling you about; Jamia.”
“Oh, ok,” I said, disappointed. “Have fun and good luck.”
“Thanks,” he said. “How about we hang out tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said. “What time?”
“Umm,” Frank said, thinking. “How about one o’clock?”
“Ok,” I said. “See you then.”
“Bye,” Frank said.
“Oh, and Frank,” I said. “I love you.”
The only reply I got was the dial tone. Frank had already hung up.
Frank’s P.O.V.
Present
I looked at the gun Amanda still held in her hand. The gun that had taken her life. I looked at her other hand, noticing a folded up piece of paper held loosely in it. The suicide note, perhaps.
I kneeled down beside Amanda’s lifeless body and carefully pulled the piece of paper out of her hand. I unfolded it slowly, revealing one simple sentence:
“I love you, Frank.”
I couldn’t believe it. I crumpled up the paper and buried my face in my hands, now full out sobbing. I rocked back and forth on my knees. I lowered my hands to look at Amanda. I reached out and stroked her hair.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Amanda?” I choked out. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
My hand made contact with her face; the flesh cold. Her face was perfect. She was beautiful even in death. I let out another loud sob.
“You should have told me,” I repeated. “God, what am I saying? I should have told you.”
My hand slipped and landed in the puddle of blood around her head. I didn’t care though. I left it there and leaned down. I kissed Amanda’s cold lips. I wish I had done this while she was alive. I wish I had told her. I sat up.
“I love you, Amanda,” I said. “I love you.”
My eyes left Amanda’s face and landed on the gun still in her hand. I took my hand out of the puddle of blood to reach for the gun. I took it carefully out of her hand. I stared down at it in my hands. This felt right. I looked back at Amanda’s face and smiled. I brought the gun up to my temple.
“I love you,” I whispered. I closed my eyes tightly and pulled the trigger.
Amanda’s P.O.V.
An Hour Ago
It was two o’clock. Frank was not here.
My father’s locked wooden box, which he hid in my parent’s closet, sat on the coffee table in front of me. I held the key in my hand. Inside the box was a gun. My parents didn’t know that I knew about it. But I did. I had been looking for a pair of my mother’s shoes, which I wanted to borrow. Curious, I had searched for the key which I found easily in my dad’s bedside table. When I found out there was a gun in it, I lost interest. It was nothing I had seen myself needing...Or wanting.
But here I was, staring at the box, wanting badly to use it. I have never felt so unwanted, so hopeless before. I had had these feelings before, just not as strongly as they were now. I knew Frank didn’t love me. If he did, he wouldn’t always be chasing other girls, right? He had obviously chosen this new girl over me, or else he would be here right now. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I looked at the key in my hand then at the box. It was now or never.
The box unlocked with a click and I opened it slowly, revealing the gun inside. I picked it up slowly, feeling its weight in my hand.
I looked around, wondering where I should do this. My eyes landed on the entry way to the living room which went to the main entry to the house. I got up off the couch and walked to the main entry way of the house, facing the front door. I would be the first thing anyone saw when they entered the house. I positioned the gun on my temple, staring at the door.
Wait. I should have some sort of suicide note. I wanted Frank to at least know why I did this, if he even cared. I went to the kitchen and found a pen and paper. I wrote my note quickly. Short and sweet:
“I love you, Frank.”
I folded it neatly and went back to the entry way. I had the note in one hand and the gun in another. I positioned the gun back at my temple.
“I love you Frank,” I said out loud to myself. And just as I pulled the trigger, Frank came through the door. And I smiled.
♠ ♠ ♠
Comments??