The Saints Of Mibba
Love Is A Killer.
She closed her eyes. The room seemed to be getting smaller. She could hear Patrick’s voice filling the room, her ears. It was all she heard, but none of the words entered her mind, her heart. Her mind was shooting thoughts like bullets, wanting to kill her.
The thoughts were like poisonous bullets. Each one hit her with such force, but then took time until it would full sink in, just in time for another one to come. Such force was used to hit her. Slowly, each horrible thought was bringing her down.
Feet sunk down to the ground, arms held around her in need of warmth, as tears filled her eyes. Down at her lowest lows, she was. The girl breathed in deeply, she breathed in, wanting it to be her last. Of course, it wasn’t. The way she saw it, life didn’t love her enough to be nice, but loved her too much to let her go.
She couldn’t handle it. She was alone, even with Pete’s bass ringing through her ears. She ran to the other side of the room. Since her eyes were blurry from tears, she stumbled. As she did so, she tried to grab on the window ledge in front of her, instead, all she did was knock a small glass trinket to the floor.
Normally the rather large girl would have rushed around to clean up the glass, not wanting to step on it and cut herself later on. This time, though, her eyes were glued to the sharp glass, noticing how amazing it looked as the light hit it just right. It brought a small to her face, one that shouldn’t have been there.
Then, almost no thoughts passing through her mind, Andy’s drums playing a fast anthem, she put the glass to her wrist and carved the best heart that she could make this her shaky hand. It was the first time that the cold glass had tainted her body, but she knew it wouldn’t be the last.
Weeks had past. So many weeks that one could say that months had past. The girl had collected sharp objects – razors, blades, glass pieces, and anything else that could help carve something into her weary arms. Very few people knew. Her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend along with the only person she felt like she could truly trust – Tasha.
And so, like most days, the large girl was in front of her computer, singed onto both MSN and AIM, wanting someone talk to. She became almost reliant on those two things. If she talked to someone good that day, she wouldn’t cut. If she didn’t, well, it was just another scar added upon many.
She started the screen, her fingers typing like mad, the words being poetry of the broken hearted. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone get onto to MSN. She studied the name, not recognizing it at first. When she realized who it was, she tried not to dance for joy.
It had been months since the nameless girl had talked to him. She immediately started to talk to him, saying things along the lines of ‘oh, how I have missed you.’ She couldn’t help but smile when he said he had missed her, too.
There conversations never lasted long, for he always had to get off and live his life. She would say goodbye with a heavy heart, never fully wanting to. She never wanted him to leave, she never wanted to be without his words of wisdom or his non stop talk of fun things he did.
She never wanted to be without the feeling she felt when she talked to him. She loved how she was the only one that called him Andy, she loved that she was the only one that hold a conversation with him for so long. She loved it all. Deep down, she knew that she loved him. It was her secret, though, never to be told.
From the first day that she had started speaking to him again, and from the day after, she was cut free. Her body was heeling, scars slowly fading into perfect pail skin. She almost felt like herself again. The way she was before the tears and the blood. Back to happiness she was falling. No, she was climbing.
Things went great between the two. Her and her prince, her and her hero.
One day, the large girl was crying more than she had in days. Her new house was empty, parents out shopping and sister at a friends – something that the lonely girl couldn’t get. She was utterly alone, completely.
But then she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a now familiar name sign onto MSN. Before she even has a chance to say hello, he sent her a message reading: I’M IN LOVE!
Andy had known of the girl’s love for him, but he had never really known how much. In his mind, they were best friends, the closest, despite the 5,000 mile distance. After reading his message, knowing that he wasn’t loving her, she shut down her computer, no words said to him in response.
After then, their speaking lessened. He was barely ever on anymore and when he was, it was to say how happy he was, how in love. The nameless girl tried her best to be happy for him, to smile because he was happy. But it was so hard, harder than anything she could have ever known.
Out of no where, he disappeared for weeks. Longer than she had ever seen him gone. It scared her, thinking that something bad had happened to him. The next time they talked he was the first to speak once more. This time, though, his statement wasn’t as joyous: My house burnt down.
The girl looked around for her phone. Finding it, she called him. She needed to hear what happened, not just see words on a screen. “Hello?” he whispered once he answered his phone.
A huge smile played onto her face. It was great to know that he was really alive. “So,” she said, breathing in deeply, trying to hide the tears of joy that were falling from her voice, “what happened?”
There was a sigh on the other end. Then Andy began. “Well, you know, Christina was over and—“
Without letting him finish his sentence, she interjected, already having known what he was going to say. “You know, this love of yours is killing you. Killing you,” she added with extra force. Then, in the form of a whisper, she said, “Just like your not loving me is killing me.”
After realizing what she just said, the nameless girl hung up the phone. She threw it across the room in frustration, wanting it to break, wanting to never hear her voice say something else to ruin her life through it.
And now, months later, she hasn’t heard a word from him. She wonders if he’s dead, if he’s happy, if he’s still in love. The thought haunts her, preventing her from sleeping some nights. She’s holding onto something that she doesn’t know is real. She needs to hear him, but she can’t bring herself to call, not even to ask someone that would know if he was alive.
It’s funny, when you think about it, even with him gone, her love him was still killing her. And she couldn’t stop it.
The thoughts were like poisonous bullets. Each one hit her with such force, but then took time until it would full sink in, just in time for another one to come. Such force was used to hit her. Slowly, each horrible thought was bringing her down.
Feet sunk down to the ground, arms held around her in need of warmth, as tears filled her eyes. Down at her lowest lows, she was. The girl breathed in deeply, she breathed in, wanting it to be her last. Of course, it wasn’t. The way she saw it, life didn’t love her enough to be nice, but loved her too much to let her go.
She couldn’t handle it. She was alone, even with Pete’s bass ringing through her ears. She ran to the other side of the room. Since her eyes were blurry from tears, she stumbled. As she did so, she tried to grab on the window ledge in front of her, instead, all she did was knock a small glass trinket to the floor.
Normally the rather large girl would have rushed around to clean up the glass, not wanting to step on it and cut herself later on. This time, though, her eyes were glued to the sharp glass, noticing how amazing it looked as the light hit it just right. It brought a small to her face, one that shouldn’t have been there.
Then, almost no thoughts passing through her mind, Andy’s drums playing a fast anthem, she put the glass to her wrist and carved the best heart that she could make this her shaky hand. It was the first time that the cold glass had tainted her body, but she knew it wouldn’t be the last.
Weeks had past. So many weeks that one could say that months had past. The girl had collected sharp objects – razors, blades, glass pieces, and anything else that could help carve something into her weary arms. Very few people knew. Her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend along with the only person she felt like she could truly trust – Tasha.
And so, like most days, the large girl was in front of her computer, singed onto both MSN and AIM, wanting someone talk to. She became almost reliant on those two things. If she talked to someone good that day, she wouldn’t cut. If she didn’t, well, it was just another scar added upon many.
She started the screen, her fingers typing like mad, the words being poetry of the broken hearted. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone get onto to MSN. She studied the name, not recognizing it at first. When she realized who it was, she tried not to dance for joy.
It had been months since the nameless girl had talked to him. She immediately started to talk to him, saying things along the lines of ‘oh, how I have missed you.’ She couldn’t help but smile when he said he had missed her, too.
There conversations never lasted long, for he always had to get off and live his life. She would say goodbye with a heavy heart, never fully wanting to. She never wanted him to leave, she never wanted to be without his words of wisdom or his non stop talk of fun things he did.
She never wanted to be without the feeling she felt when she talked to him. She loved how she was the only one that called him Andy, she loved that she was the only one that hold a conversation with him for so long. She loved it all. Deep down, she knew that she loved him. It was her secret, though, never to be told.
From the first day that she had started speaking to him again, and from the day after, she was cut free. Her body was heeling, scars slowly fading into perfect pail skin. She almost felt like herself again. The way she was before the tears and the blood. Back to happiness she was falling. No, she was climbing.
Things went great between the two. Her and her prince, her and her hero.
One day, the large girl was crying more than she had in days. Her new house was empty, parents out shopping and sister at a friends – something that the lonely girl couldn’t get. She was utterly alone, completely.
But then she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a now familiar name sign onto MSN. Before she even has a chance to say hello, he sent her a message reading: I’M IN LOVE!
Andy had known of the girl’s love for him, but he had never really known how much. In his mind, they were best friends, the closest, despite the 5,000 mile distance. After reading his message, knowing that he wasn’t loving her, she shut down her computer, no words said to him in response.
After then, their speaking lessened. He was barely ever on anymore and when he was, it was to say how happy he was, how in love. The nameless girl tried her best to be happy for him, to smile because he was happy. But it was so hard, harder than anything she could have ever known.
Out of no where, he disappeared for weeks. Longer than she had ever seen him gone. It scared her, thinking that something bad had happened to him. The next time they talked he was the first to speak once more. This time, though, his statement wasn’t as joyous: My house burnt down.
The girl looked around for her phone. Finding it, she called him. She needed to hear what happened, not just see words on a screen. “Hello?” he whispered once he answered his phone.
A huge smile played onto her face. It was great to know that he was really alive. “So,” she said, breathing in deeply, trying to hide the tears of joy that were falling from her voice, “what happened?”
There was a sigh on the other end. Then Andy began. “Well, you know, Christina was over and—“
Without letting him finish his sentence, she interjected, already having known what he was going to say. “You know, this love of yours is killing you. Killing you,” she added with extra force. Then, in the form of a whisper, she said, “Just like your not loving me is killing me.”
After realizing what she just said, the nameless girl hung up the phone. She threw it across the room in frustration, wanting it to break, wanting to never hear her voice say something else to ruin her life through it.
And now, months later, she hasn’t heard a word from him. She wonders if he’s dead, if he’s happy, if he’s still in love. The thought haunts her, preventing her from sleeping some nights. She’s holding onto something that she doesn’t know is real. She needs to hear him, but she can’t bring herself to call, not even to ask someone that would know if he was alive.
It’s funny, when you think about it, even with him gone, her love him was still killing her. And she couldn’t stop it.