Suicide Season

I can feel it, my insides shredding apart. The knife drops from my fingertips, the familiar sight of red tentacles of fluid coming out of my wrist. I bite into my bottom lip, refusing to let the cry escape my mouth. Hearing it would make the situation all the more real and I couldn't exactly stomach the truth at the moment. Then again will I ever?

I just feel so numb. There's this spark of emotion deep inside me, it's encased in glass, only a small tickling sensation left for my body to pick up but that's it. The rest of me is nothing. The only true emotions I feel are the immense amounts of depression and loneliness. I haven't been happy in so long; while others are getting laugh lines I'm sure I'll have frown lives. That's if I even make it to such and old age. It seem like so long until I reach that point in time, but then again it feels like so much less.

There's that all too familiar lump in my thought. A bomb threatening to blow up in any second, the blast releasing some sort of notes from my mouth. My tongue is dry and my mouth burns. I can feel the muscles on my face twitching, trying to pull back to let the emotions show but there's another part of me demanding that they stay still and strain themselves.

I always call this breathing my scream because it's really what your doing. You're holding that noise in you mouth, just breathing and hoping it will pass but it doesn't it only gets worse.

Being so lost in thought, my resistance to make any noise fails and a whimper escapes my lips. After that it's useless. My ears register the sound and then I'm right out sobbing. I'm screaming, fingers trying to grip onto something but the cool porcelain of the bath tub has nothing to close my hands around. I cry and yell unintelligible words, my thoughts beginning to to be expressed. Blood is being smeared all over the once pure canvas and once again it looks like a murder scene.

The maniac in my brain is laughing and howling, yelling at me to enjoy the metallic liquid, to play with it, to ask for more. My stomach twist and I jump to my feet, stumbling out of the tub and getting onto my knees in front of the toilet bowl. The contents of my stomach spill into the water and I groan, fingers digging into the golden plush rug on the floor. I cough and spit, my throat burning more from the acid it was exposed to.

I unsteadily pushed myself to my feet and leaned against the sink. I flush the toilet and drop the lid, not wanting to see the small splatters of mush on the seat. I turn on the faucet and brush my teeth and mouth, using the mouth wash to rid myself of the awful taste and then clean the dry blood.

I drag my feet into my room and collapse on my bed, the sound of oxygen leaving and filling my lungs lulls me to sleep.

"Stop moving," I command.

A fidgeting Aiden whines but becomes as still as a statue. I pressed the graphite end of the pencil into the fabric, drawing out the features of his face and then his hair. I do a rough outline from his shoulders down and then went to work on the background. Once I was done it was dark out and Aiden looked completely bored out of his mind.

“Sorry.” I apologized sheepishly. He just shrugged his shoulders as the door to my room opened.

“I'm going out with friends from work, there's pizza on the counter.” My Aunt states and then slipped away.

“Oh my god, food!” He said, throwing himself onto the floor. Aiden then began drag his body across the floor.

“Need. Food.” He panted, wrapping his arms around my legs. I yelped, toppling over in shock and the both of just ended up laughing, sprawled out on the floor. Aiden sat up and looked at the sketch I've done of him. I smile as I watch him examine it, an unknown feeling running through my veins as a smirk comes up to my face.

“Like it?” I ask smugly and he nods his head.

“It's so beautiful!” He gasps and I nod my head, staring at him dreamily. “Yeah you are.” The words escape my lips without warning and Aiden whips his face back to look at me. His eyes are wide in shock and I can feel my face begin to get hot. You'd think it'd mean a blush would come to my cheeks but I don't blush, my skin only gets hot.

Before I can become a stuttering fool Aiden crashes his lips against mine. My body reacts on it's own and kisses him back, his warm soft lips are addictive. His body presses against mine as he climbs on top of me and straddles me. My hands are supporting both of our weight, palms flat against the floor.

Aiden's hands cup my neck and my skin tingles, some foreign feeling running over my sense and it feels so good. I can feel the muscles relax in my face the more the waves of that emotion spread through out my body. Aiden doesn't pull away and even if he did I don't think I'd let him. I push him off of me and sit up , my legs stretched out as he sits between them, lips still attached. His hands move to rub my sides and I feel my tongue swipe across his bottom lip.

My mind screams at me that we're moving way too fast. We haven't established anything yet and here we are make out but that thought his thrown out the window when my hormones kick in and he allows my tongue to explore his mouth.

I've never been with someone like this before and it only now registers to me that Aiden is my first kiss. I moan, when he begins to massage my tongue with his. His hands slip under my shirt and my lungs are begging for air but I don't care because this all feels so good. The feeling of his hands, familiarity of his presence and warmth of his body are driving me insane.

My hands tangle into his hair and I tug, earning a glorious noise from him.

The sound of a car alarm going of outside causes us to break apart.

And we just look at each other, both flabbergasted and panting. But when Aiden opens his mouth to try to gain some solid ground I shut him up with my lips.