I should hopefully add some more to it. Please tell me what you think.
Wendy stumbled from the bathroom towards her bedroom, barely conscious of her surroundings as all of her thoughts were centered around the treasured items that she was clutching to her chest.
Finally she reached her room and as soon as she was close enough, let herself topple down onto the bed. She squirmed, readjusting her position so that she was now lying flat on her back, the pills still cradled against her breast. She then reached for her bedside table and grappled at the bottle of vodka that she had been sipping at for most of the evening. Once she had secured it in her other hand, she swallowed the first of the pills, quickly gulping down dome the alcohol.
For a moment, the vodka tasted so foul as it burned it’s way down her throat that she thought she might spit it straight back out. Some quiet voice at the back of her mind informed her that it was unwise to mix alcohol and pills - that these actions might have dire consequences. She let out a low manic laugh, that got higher and higher as it filled her body.
“But that’s the whole point” she spat out between laughs.
She took another couple of pills and then turned to stare at a picture on her bedside table. As she stared at it, her noisy, violent laughter turned to silent tears. She reached out an unsteady hand to touch the photo. Just to touch it.
The photo was of a young boy with messy blonde hair, that had always been messy as he had never really been bothered enough to spend more than a couple of minutes on it. These beautiful locks had fallen out just a few months after this photo had been taken. Wendy felt more tears start to well up just behind her eyelids, threatening to spill, she instinctively shut her eyes and forced the tears back. This was the part that hurt more than anything else was. Remembering.
It was like a sweet torture, taunting her with dreams of smiles that she’d never see again, words that she’d never hear him speak. It was like someone giving you half of a cupcake and then taking the rest of it away so that all you could do is remember how good the first half was, and wondering whether the other half would have been sweet, or bitter.
Having pushed back the weight of her grief, Wendy studied the picture again. Even though no one even knew of his illness at this point, he was still slightly paler than normal and definitely thinner. His eyes were the same though, she thought. They still glittered at you like saphires. Or like they were laughing at some private joke, but would still love for you to join in.
Looking back, she thought as she gazed at the picture and downed another few pills, it was those eyes that she had fallen in love with first. Not that the rest of him wasn’t nice. But those eyes had been something different, special. They’d always seemed to see right through her. She cringed slightly as she imagined what his reaction would be like if he knew what she was doing right now. He's always seen suicide as the most cowardly thing anyone could do. Oh well, she mused, I’ll have eternity to make it up to him.
Her vision started to be marred by a red haze and she felt herself almost sink into the bed, as if she’d just come home from a long, long night out. Which, she supposed, theoretically she had. She’d had a very long, exhausting day, that just wasn’t fun anymore, and now she was going to go home... to him.
For a few more seconds she fought against the desire to pass out. She stretched out a hand that she could no longer really feel and clutched at the photo. She almost knocked it off the table in her daze, but managed to pull it onto the bed. Using the last of her strength, she brought the photo to her chest and clutched it there.
Wendy opened her eyes with surprise. She hadn’t really expected to open them again at all, so that in itself was a shock. But nothing was quite as surprising as her surroundings. Everything was white, as far as the eyes could see. And strangely, there was no other colours in the room, no grey shadows, no blue of sky, no green of earth. Just blinding white.
She sat up slightly. She looked again at her surroundings and gave an involuntary shiver, despite there being no wind. There was just something cold in the place’s atmosphere that chilled her to the bone. She got to her feet and started to walk forwards. She had no idea where she was going, but, she rationalized, it had to be better than this harsh, clinical place. She continued to walk, but although she could see herself moving across the floor, nothing changed. Everywhere stayed the same, the same white light. The same stillness.
She realized then exactly what was so creepy and ...wrong about this place. There was no sound. No movement. Not even the slightest gust of wind. She felt a wave of terror crash over her, but just as she had with the earlier wave of grief, she pushed it away from her.
“Hello?” She asked timidly, hearing her voice echo back to her. Another wave of terror hit her and this one she couldn’t quite resist. She felt her body start to tremble. She sat down and glared at her hand, willing it to stop shaking. She jumped as for the first time in this place she heard a sound. The sound of footprints.
She turned around sharply and found herself face to face with…Him. He smiled at her ruefully as if he was both happy and sad to see her at the same time. He said nothing though, just stood there, staring at her with blue eyes that sparkled like diamonds.
That can't be! *starts to read*
. About the grammar i mean.
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