Status: finished, until i decide to write an epilogue. i still may.
Folded Paper.
Epilogue.
Allister's funeral was the saddest of days. No, it did not rain. It did not storm. It was a sunny day, but what good did it do to have the sun smiling down on Allister's casket?
Hudson wanted to self-destruct, she wanted to combust into nothingness. The nothingness that she was before her mother pushed her from her whom and forced her to breathe the toxic air. Hudson wanted to scratch at her skin until it bled. Hudson wished that she could hate Allister for what he did, for loving her the moment she realized she loved him. She hated that she wouldn't be able to touch his skin, kiss his collarbones. She hated that she wouldn't be able to hear his voice when he soothed her or when he sang off-key in the shower. And those moans, those moans he'd grunt out when he thrust—she was killing herself. The memories hurt, ebbed at her skin.
With a shaky exhale, Hudson straightened her floral black dress out with her palms and readjusted her flats on her feet. She wanted to match her dead love.
On the day that he did it, the day that she took his life, she screamed. She screamed at herself, at God, at whoever was responsible for it. She screamed at her best friend and at Daniel. She tormented others because she could not torment him.
She sat in the front row, in a front row of empty seats. Allister's parents were there, but they wouldn't sit next to Hudson. She was out of control. She had lost it. Her eyes were laced with red blotches, her hair was flat and dull. Her face was ebbed with permantent tears. Her skin, her skin was poisoned with him. Daniel and Kate weren't there. They were sleep, hungover from all the alcohol they consumed the night before.
Hudson couldn't stand to sit and wait for them to bury them. She couldn't stay. Because though she loved him, he hurt her all too much. He hurt to the point where she wanted to remove her heart and push it down his throat.
She hated him.
Her hair was like a cover as she got up from the plastic chair and attempted to walk from the scene with tired eyes and feeble legs. She wanted to swear when a hand touched her shoulder, stopping her swift movements. It hurt her brain more than her heart as she staired at the blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy before her. His eyes were sad, diuted and almost hollow. Pain was sketched all across his face. She felt like she was underwater when he opened his mouth to speak.
"Allister Roberts was the most beautiful boy I'd ever met. I got his letter in the mail yesterday and I—"
She smiled gloomly. "—you loved him, too."
Hudson wanted to self-destruct, she wanted to combust into nothingness. The nothingness that she was before her mother pushed her from her whom and forced her to breathe the toxic air. Hudson wanted to scratch at her skin until it bled. Hudson wished that she could hate Allister for what he did, for loving her the moment she realized she loved him. She hated that she wouldn't be able to touch his skin, kiss his collarbones. She hated that she wouldn't be able to hear his voice when he soothed her or when he sang off-key in the shower. And those moans, those moans he'd grunt out when he thrust—she was killing herself. The memories hurt, ebbed at her skin.
With a shaky exhale, Hudson straightened her floral black dress out with her palms and readjusted her flats on her feet. She wanted to match her dead love.
On the day that he did it, the day that she took his life, she screamed. She screamed at herself, at God, at whoever was responsible for it. She screamed at her best friend and at Daniel. She tormented others because she could not torment him.
She sat in the front row, in a front row of empty seats. Allister's parents were there, but they wouldn't sit next to Hudson. She was out of control. She had lost it. Her eyes were laced with red blotches, her hair was flat and dull. Her face was ebbed with permantent tears. Her skin, her skin was poisoned with him. Daniel and Kate weren't there. They were sleep, hungover from all the alcohol they consumed the night before.
Hudson couldn't stand to sit and wait for them to bury them. She couldn't stay. Because though she loved him, he hurt her all too much. He hurt to the point where she wanted to remove her heart and push it down his throat.
She hated him.
Her hair was like a cover as she got up from the plastic chair and attempted to walk from the scene with tired eyes and feeble legs. She wanted to swear when a hand touched her shoulder, stopping her swift movements. It hurt her brain more than her heart as she staired at the blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy before her. His eyes were sad, diuted and almost hollow. Pain was sketched all across his face. She felt like she was underwater when he opened his mouth to speak.
"Allister Roberts was the most beautiful boy I'd ever met. I got his letter in the mail yesterday and I—"
She smiled gloomly. "—you loved him, too."