Where She Lay
the wax melts away;
Droplets of ran dribbled down the glass window, mirroring the silent, bloody tears that ran down his cheeks. His eyes swirled like waves of chocolate that had been burnt into blackness, and tiny, salty drops of water cascaded down his ivory cheeks. His mouth opened and closed with his ragged breaths, his eyes wide and alert but transformed by anguish as he looked at the blood.
Lightening struck and he fell to the floor, a wretched sob leaving his parted, cracked lips. His heart was a glass, and it had been shattered into thousands of tiny pieces that cut into his sanity and his soul. The shards reaped his body and his mind; they scratched at his flesh and flecked his soul with tiny, bloody cuts.
If he closed his eyes, all he could see was the blood. It was as though something had murdered his mind and left it a tangled, bloody mess and that was all he could see. With bloodshot eyes, he stared at her body across the room, his hands trembling as he clenched them into fists. “Tara,” he croaked softly, a tear trickling down his cheek. “Tara, wake up.”
25th May, 2002.
She danced in his arms, her eyes alight like a thousand shining pearls that were glistening in the morning sun. Laughter spieled from her rosy lips, and he felt a smile form on his face as he held her in his arms.
With a choked gasp she maneuvered herself out of his hold, her dark hair sashaying about in the breeze as she watched him with sparkling orbs of blue. Her lips were parted in a playful grin, and his heart was fluttering so fast at the prospect of claiming those lips that it consumed every part of his mind. His brown eyes flashed with darkness as he stepped towards her and the playfulness died on her face, her head tilting slightly as her breathing became ragged.
Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he stared into her eyes, caressing her skin with his thumbs. “Tara,” he said quietly, his voice just a whispered groan. Looking down at her, the words died on his lips. His heart pummeled against his chest in desire and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing her with every thread of his will.
Her hands curled around the back of his neck, her lips moving against his in a way that tore his body apart with delight. He felt as though he was dying, but oh, her lips were poison and he almost wanted to die because he loved her so fucking much. When he pulled away she was breathless, and he could only watch her with eyes of blackened chocolate that were glassy with ardor. “Tara, marry me,” he whispered.
The room was silent, and it tore at his skin like the teeth of a lion. He almost wanted to be torn apart, because all he could do was lie beside her and watch her with eyes that he dreamed would be lifeless. He wanted to reach into his body and tear out his heart and soul and place it into hers, because he knew that she was more pure and perfect than him and he wanted her to live and live forever. He wanted to hear the beating of her heart again. Just the silent thumping of an angel, just the mantra that would put him to sleep. He placed his fingers over his chest, his eyes flickering shut at the sound of its beating.
Thump, thump. Tara. Thump, thump. Tara was dead. Thump, thump, thump. Then he was dead too, so why was his heart still beating? Thump. It was dying. Thump. See, he was nearly dead. Thump, thump. But no, he was so, so alive.
His eyes opened and he looked at her face, reaching out to caress her ice-cold skin. A tear dribbled down his cheek and fell onto the floor, and he licked at his cracked lips, ignoring the blood that was getting on his clothing. His heart thumped on ignorantly, and he heaved in air through his parted lips. Shards of his heart crumbled like a falling tower, but the life didn’t leave his body.
Leaning out, he placed a lingering kiss against her cold, motionless lips. A tear broke their mouths apart, and he looked down to see her lifeless eyes, droplets of salty water falling carelessly against her bloodied face. “Tara, marry me,” he whispered, his voice a croak murmured out into a candle-lit room that was silent with the plague of death. There was no answer, because death hated him and it wouldn’t reply. “Marry me, Tara.”
Only the slight draft caressed his body as he watched her for an answer. Insensible eyes stared back. “Wake up, Tara,” he said quietly, his voice cracking as he reached out to brush a strand of dark hair away from her face. “We’ll get married.”
20th January, 2004.
His fingers buried into the pockets of his jeans, he walked through the gelid night air. A yawn escaped his lips and he brushed his fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he made his way onto his street.
Bright flashes of red and blue filled his eyes and his heart stopped, his legs breaking out into a run. Desperation was clinging to his soul, its arms wrapped so tightly around him that he could barely find it in him to breathe. There was yellow police tape wrapped around the gates of his house, and with a strangled cry he pushed through the gathered crowd.
Ignoring the people that shouted at him to stop and get back, he sprinted into his house, a cry pressing against the back of his lips and willing him to let it escape. His heart was beating so erratically that it was making his whole consciousness become foggy, but he had to make sure that she was okay. God, she had to be okay. He loved her too much to see her hurt.
When he turned into the living room, everything froze. Life, death, him, her, the blood. Everything blurred until it was a splatter of mangled messes and his tears washed away his vision. Life started again, but death tickled against his back. In the middle of the room lay his Tara, surrounded by a pool of blood and watching him with lifeless, pale-blue eyes.
His closed his eyes. Oh look, it disappeared. No blood. She’s still here. Only blackness, no red. It was gone.
She was gone.
17th June, 2011.
Picking up the body in his arms, he cradled her against his chest, his fingers running through the strands of her hair. Stumbling slightly, he walked from the bloodless room, his eyes fixed tearfully onto his face as he walked down the stairs. Darkness surrounded him, lightened only by a flickering candle, and he carried her to the middle of the room before setting her down softly onto the floor.
He watched her with dark, loving eyes, and with a cry he crawled onto the ground beside her and wrapped his arms around her cold body. His lips pressed against her hair, trembling slightly as they met her face. His eyes fluttered shut as he cradled her against his form, his breathing hallowing out as his thumbs fondled her stomach. “We’ll get married tomorrow, Tara,” he whispered, a tear dribbling down his cheek. “You’re going to look so pretty.”
The empty cellar didn’t respond, and neither did the girl in his arms. She stared with lifeless, button eyes, which had been stitched on crookedly with shaky and desperate hands.
The man hugged his doll to his chest, his body trembling as he held her close. “Wake up, Tara. Wake up.”
Lightening struck and he fell to the floor, a wretched sob leaving his parted, cracked lips. His heart was a glass, and it had been shattered into thousands of tiny pieces that cut into his sanity and his soul. The shards reaped his body and his mind; they scratched at his flesh and flecked his soul with tiny, bloody cuts.
If he closed his eyes, all he could see was the blood. It was as though something had murdered his mind and left it a tangled, bloody mess and that was all he could see. With bloodshot eyes, he stared at her body across the room, his hands trembling as he clenched them into fists. “Tara,” he croaked softly, a tear trickling down his cheek. “Tara, wake up.”
25th May, 2002.
She danced in his arms, her eyes alight like a thousand shining pearls that were glistening in the morning sun. Laughter spieled from her rosy lips, and he felt a smile form on his face as he held her in his arms.
With a choked gasp she maneuvered herself out of his hold, her dark hair sashaying about in the breeze as she watched him with sparkling orbs of blue. Her lips were parted in a playful grin, and his heart was fluttering so fast at the prospect of claiming those lips that it consumed every part of his mind. His brown eyes flashed with darkness as he stepped towards her and the playfulness died on her face, her head tilting slightly as her breathing became ragged.
Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he stared into her eyes, caressing her skin with his thumbs. “Tara,” he said quietly, his voice just a whispered groan. Looking down at her, the words died on his lips. His heart pummeled against his chest in desire and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing her with every thread of his will.
Her hands curled around the back of his neck, her lips moving against his in a way that tore his body apart with delight. He felt as though he was dying, but oh, her lips were poison and he almost wanted to die because he loved her so fucking much. When he pulled away she was breathless, and he could only watch her with eyes of blackened chocolate that were glassy with ardor. “Tara, marry me,” he whispered.
The room was silent, and it tore at his skin like the teeth of a lion. He almost wanted to be torn apart, because all he could do was lie beside her and watch her with eyes that he dreamed would be lifeless. He wanted to reach into his body and tear out his heart and soul and place it into hers, because he knew that she was more pure and perfect than him and he wanted her to live and live forever. He wanted to hear the beating of her heart again. Just the silent thumping of an angel, just the mantra that would put him to sleep. He placed his fingers over his chest, his eyes flickering shut at the sound of its beating.
Thump, thump. Tara. Thump, thump. Tara was dead. Thump, thump, thump. Then he was dead too, so why was his heart still beating? Thump. It was dying. Thump. See, he was nearly dead. Thump, thump. But no, he was so, so alive.
His eyes opened and he looked at her face, reaching out to caress her ice-cold skin. A tear dribbled down his cheek and fell onto the floor, and he licked at his cracked lips, ignoring the blood that was getting on his clothing. His heart thumped on ignorantly, and he heaved in air through his parted lips. Shards of his heart crumbled like a falling tower, but the life didn’t leave his body.
Leaning out, he placed a lingering kiss against her cold, motionless lips. A tear broke their mouths apart, and he looked down to see her lifeless eyes, droplets of salty water falling carelessly against her bloodied face. “Tara, marry me,” he whispered, his voice a croak murmured out into a candle-lit room that was silent with the plague of death. There was no answer, because death hated him and it wouldn’t reply. “Marry me, Tara.”
Only the slight draft caressed his body as he watched her for an answer. Insensible eyes stared back. “Wake up, Tara,” he said quietly, his voice cracking as he reached out to brush a strand of dark hair away from her face. “We’ll get married.”
20th January, 2004.
His fingers buried into the pockets of his jeans, he walked through the gelid night air. A yawn escaped his lips and he brushed his fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he made his way onto his street.
Bright flashes of red and blue filled his eyes and his heart stopped, his legs breaking out into a run. Desperation was clinging to his soul, its arms wrapped so tightly around him that he could barely find it in him to breathe. There was yellow police tape wrapped around the gates of his house, and with a strangled cry he pushed through the gathered crowd.
Ignoring the people that shouted at him to stop and get back, he sprinted into his house, a cry pressing against the back of his lips and willing him to let it escape. His heart was beating so erratically that it was making his whole consciousness become foggy, but he had to make sure that she was okay. God, she had to be okay. He loved her too much to see her hurt.
When he turned into the living room, everything froze. Life, death, him, her, the blood. Everything blurred until it was a splatter of mangled messes and his tears washed away his vision. Life started again, but death tickled against his back. In the middle of the room lay his Tara, surrounded by a pool of blood and watching him with lifeless, pale-blue eyes.
His closed his eyes. Oh look, it disappeared. No blood. She’s still here. Only blackness, no red. It was gone.
She was gone.
17th June, 2011.
Picking up the body in his arms, he cradled her against his chest, his fingers running through the strands of her hair. Stumbling slightly, he walked from the bloodless room, his eyes fixed tearfully onto his face as he walked down the stairs. Darkness surrounded him, lightened only by a flickering candle, and he carried her to the middle of the room before setting her down softly onto the floor.
He watched her with dark, loving eyes, and with a cry he crawled onto the ground beside her and wrapped his arms around her cold body. His lips pressed against her hair, trembling slightly as they met her face. His eyes fluttered shut as he cradled her against his form, his breathing hallowing out as his thumbs fondled her stomach. “We’ll get married tomorrow, Tara,” he whispered, a tear dribbling down his cheek. “You’re going to look so pretty.”
The empty cellar didn’t respond, and neither did the girl in his arms. She stared with lifeless, button eyes, which had been stitched on crookedly with shaky and desperate hands.
The man hugged his doll to his chest, his body trembling as he held her close. “Wake up, Tara. Wake up.”
♠ ♠ ♠
God, this is the most effort I've ever put into a one shot, and I'm not even sure that any of you will get it haha. There are little words and snippets in there that will help it make sense. XDFeedback would be amazing!