Status: NaNo Story
Fight for You
The Beginning of the End
It started with a crash, and it ended with a crash. It was the crash of his eyes on mine that started it. It was the crush of his smile. It was the gust of his voice. It was the break of his touch. It was the game of cat and mouse that he and I enjoyed playing far too much. It was a car crash of emotions that started it.
It was metal on metal on wood that ended it. It was copper on skin. It was car horns blaring and echoing and deafening. It was steel screams and silver shrieks. It was just a car crash that ended it. It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t melodic. It wasn’t rhythmic.
It was bloody and broken and choked out words. It was crimson smears on wet cheeks. It was hearts breaking and breaths sputtering. It was false hope. “Help is on the way. Hang on, please hang on.” Lies. I lied. I looked him straight in the face and I lied. I watched blood gush unceremoniously through the bullet wound and I lied to him.
There was nothing beautiful in the blood spilling like streams of water down the side of the bathtub.
There was nothing beautiful in the way his head slumped against the car horn, the whole city knowing that he was there, but no one running to our rescue.
There was nothing beautiful in the way blood spotted my shirt when he chanted with no breath in his lungs, “I love you I love you I love you I love you.”
There was nothing fucking beautiful in the death of Rixon Knight.
It was metal on metal on wood that ended it. It was copper on skin. It was car horns blaring and echoing and deafening. It was steel screams and silver shrieks. It was just a car crash that ended it. It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t melodic. It wasn’t rhythmic.
It was bloody and broken and choked out words. It was crimson smears on wet cheeks. It was hearts breaking and breaths sputtering. It was false hope. “Help is on the way. Hang on, please hang on.” Lies. I lied. I looked him straight in the face and I lied. I watched blood gush unceremoniously through the bullet wound and I lied to him.
There was nothing beautiful in the blood spilling like streams of water down the side of the bathtub.
There was nothing beautiful in the way his head slumped against the car horn, the whole city knowing that he was there, but no one running to our rescue.
There was nothing beautiful in the way blood spotted my shirt when he chanted with no breath in his lungs, “I love you I love you I love you I love you.”
There was nothing fucking beautiful in the death of Rixon Knight.
♠ ♠ ♠
So, yes. This is for NaNoWriMo and I am not promising that it will be any good. It's November, which means, let's write as shittily as we can so that we can make the word count towards winning, woo! But, it's been so long and I've done so many changes to this story. I hope you guys like the direction I've gone in.