Little Lady

People say that it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

But how far do you agree with that?

That cliché used to make me somewhat angry.

Do you really think having your heart torn from the cavity in your chest at a million miles an hour feels good? The way your airways begin to close up as you're blinded by tears, why is your mind empty...wait it's not...you're mechanically blank but your head is racing at the same time. You want to go to them but you don't want to witness first hand the way their skin feels cold now. Ice cold. In comparison to the way it used to be hot to touch, comforting to put your arms around. Perfect.

I should have cried but I just stood there. I felt my bag fall from my hand and clatter to the floor but nothing really mattered, it wasn't really important. Her hair splayed prettily beside her, the blood lost and blending in with her bright red hair. I knew it was there though, it was still pooling around her, leaving her body, tainting the floor. Her eyes were open and vacant, kind of like a diner after eight pm. I wanted to go to her and close them, I couldn't stare into those lifeless orbs anymore, all I saw was death.

I got sick on the floor but that didn't bother me, I'd puked so many times on this specific floor it didn't even register. It was the norm so to speak. I'd also seen mass amounts of blood on this floor, different people's, different girls. But hers was different, hers was like fluorescent orange to my eyes, it stood out, was emphasized. Prominently torturing. I thought I saw her finger twitch but I think that was my eyes playing tricks on me, there was no way she could still be alive, I saw that in her eyes, they were a bottomless abyss. Their pale blue shade had darkened, like they'd been swallowed by death too.

It should have been me that scooped her up in my arms, cradling her to my chest and whispering sweet nothings into her newly deaf ear. But instead it was Taylor. Of all people. Him and Mike came in behind me, talking lowly to each other, as soon as they saw me standing there I felt Taylor rush past me, slightly knocking me, I swayed on my feet and if the impact would have been greater I'd have probably fallen. And I wouldn't have had the energy to stop myself from doing so.

He dropped to his knees, them thudding proudly against the flooring. He shook his head, brushing his fingers down her face, softly, like it meant more than any kiss or any other action in the world. And maybe it did. Taylor had that ability. I'd known him such a short time but I realized that straight away, he had a way of making little things seem important - I could tell Leda had been falling for him. He scooped up her body and her head lolled lethargically to the side, her mouth ever so slightly agape. He held her head like a father holds his new born child's and he rocked her back and forth, tears swelling his eyes, making them red and puffy. Raw. He was speaking, his mouth was moving but his voice sounded like an echo bouncing off of a wall and not quite having the strength to reach me completely. He kept shaking his head on and on like it'd make a difference. Like the God I'd just lost every inch of faith in would snap his fingers and make her come back to life. Like that was even possible.

It was minutes later that I realized Mike's arm was around my shoulders. I don't know how many minutes later but it felt like I'd been standing there an eternity already so it didn't even matter. I willed my head to turn to look at him but it wouldn't co-operate so instead I just stood in the same position, my eyes trained on my now dead girlfriend. Unmoving. Unable to move.

Somebody was shaking me, waving their hand in my face, I felt it, I saw it. Well kind of. But either way I didn't respond. I didn't feel like I could. I felt like a spirit, a ghost of myself, hovering just outside my body, unable to communicate with the human species around me. Even if I wanted my mouth to move or my eyes to blink, even if I had the energy to do these simplistic actions, it felt impossible. Like I was trying to control a body that wasn't my own.

Control. That was a funny word. What defined control? How much control did you have to lose before you lost control? What was the limit. What labeled you as out of control? Did it really matter? Surely if you were so out of control you wouldn't even care. I heard sirens, my ears hurt, my eyeballs felt like they'd bathed in acid, my stomach lurched and I got sick again. Mike rubbed my back, telling me it was going to be okay. As if he actually had the fucking audacity to tell me that. I finally mustered up the courage to look at him, his eyes were swollen too, rubbed raw and still overflowing, his expression was a concoction of one part worry and eight parts heartbreak. I pulled my fist back and let it smash quite forcefully into his face, there was a popping noise and I couldn't really decide if it was my knuckles or his nose, they both bled equally and my knuckles burned. One simple glance and I knew two of them had shifted out of place. The pain didn't phase me though, I felt euphoric. That was years of anger, hurt, guilt, depression, sadness, loneliness and aggression let loose in one punch. It felt good.

More people rushed past me and before I could acknowledge who they were the eery house was full of voices. I forced myself to listen to every word, to concentrate, even if it took all I had inside me to do so. Taylor was now on my side, him moving away from the dead body in convenience for the uniformed people who'd just arrived. I heard mutterings about a pulse, someone shouted at someone else for oxygen or something but right now my while I breathed heavily in and out my brain couldn't make the connection to what oxygen was and why it was necessary right now.

Two bullet wounds. - I heard someone exclaim but the words meant nothing to me. One in the head, one in the leg.

We're going to need a stretcher. Another unfamiliar voice informed but I felt myself laugh bitterly at that. What did they need a stretcher for? She was dead. Gone. Never coming back.

Could you all please step outside while we retreat to get a stretcher and remove the body. I ignored the words it was all white noise to me. I moved forwards instead of backwards towards the front door. It'd only just hit me. Where was my father? Euck...the word made me double over and retch. I entered the kitchen searching for him, I'd kill him when I found him. It was almost like it was my duty. I had to. I owed him it. All those years of neglect and abuse. Now he'd done his final deed and broken me in a way I never thought possible.

I groaned when I found the kitchen empty. The back door wide open emphasizing his escape. I brought my hands up to my head and clenched my eyes shut, focusing on my breathing. In and out. In and out. When I opened my eyes I noticed an object on the floor. I made my way over to it, my heart in my throat, pounding away. I knelt down and picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It was a gun. The gun. It was sleek and all black, apart from one part of it.

The trigger.

The trigger was gold, shiny and cold. I furrowed my brows, I'd never seen anything like it before. Guns were always simple, if you wanted to bedazzle them yourself then that was on your own accord. I never knew of anyone with a custom made gun with a golden trigger. I snagged the gun and put it in my jacket, hiding it away. Yes it was the murder weapon but my chest was too heavy and my mind to foggy to care. I turned around to head back and out the front door when the paramedics walked in, carrying their stretcher.

I don't know who's jaw fell open first but mine was definitely on the floor. Earliers fogginess had evaporated, I didn't feel so in a daze anymore. I felt more sober than baby. The paramedics looked at each other, confused expressions that matched mine plastered on their faces. The pool of blood remained there, it looked big, too wide, almost like a whole body had been drained on the floor.

Speaking of bodies. I'd forgotten to mention.

The body was gone. Her body was gone.

A diamond bullet and a gun made of gold she was covered in blood.....

Notes

I had an impulse to write this.
And because I love you all, I thought I'd give you a little something extra. :)

HA HA HA HA to the people who have unsubscribed and won't see this. :))))

LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH I CANT EVEN.

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!