Young Writers Society

I'd stay with you forever, darling. I'd stay with you for as long as you want, but I'd only make you crazy. I'd leave you laughing until you just couldn't stop. Laughing is good, but not when you're bleeding to death. Never when you're bleeding to death. And I'd just leave you bleeding to death, laughing insanely. You're better off without me, honey, trust me.

"I don't trust you. I need you. That's just the way things are. And I'm sorry..."

I rolled over and spun the sheets tightly around my body. Into a sort of caccoon. That was all I needed, a caccoon. And then I'd wake up and I'd be his butterfly. I'd be beautiful. And that would be perfect.

But when I woke up I was the same. When I looked into the mirror I wished it would just shatter. I didn't want to see myself this way. Or any way. I wanted to just...

"Disappear?"

"Yeah, something like that."

I took another sip of my tea. It was a little too sweet, but Drew always made it too sweet. I drank it anyways, just to make him happy. When Drew was happy, I was happy. That's just the way things worked. And Drew was all I had left, so...

"So, has he talked to you at all since then?"

I shook my black head and pulled down my sleeves a little. My sleeves were black, my hair was black, everything about about me that day seemed to be black. I wouldn't doubt that my interior was slightly monochronic. I touched my heart but I couldn't feel it beat. Maybe I was already dead. One could always hope.

Drew took away my tea and his and helped me to my feet. I smoothed my black skirt and walked over to the window, brushing the green satin curtain aside. It felt smooth against my rough hand, and I smiled to myself a little. I don't know why. The world below me raced by, and it seemed that it would never stop.

Funny - my world had crashed. There didn't seem to be anything left to it, but me and the pain that encased me. The light from the streets below blinded my sight momentarily, and I began to lose my grip on everything. Tears flowed freely from my dark eyes.

This is what he left me with. Emptiness, darkness and tears to cry. He said he couldn't be with me because he'd make me crazy. But when he left me, my sanity went with him. Drew nursed the wounds I inflicted upon myself and chased away the nightmares that haunted me. Drew did his best to put a smile on my face. And normally he succeeded. The artist in him erased the sadness from my face and painted me a new one. Bright eyes. Full, red lips curled into a smile. A smile for him.

And then I heard his footsteps. Only Drew walked with that sort of rhythm. Step, step, stop, step, step, stop. And so it went. His last stop was behind me - so close to me that I could feel the fabric of his shirt brush against my neck. The touch sent chills down my spine, and I could feel my sight return. Reflected in the window I could see myself, and Drew behind me. I could see Drew's slender arms and fingers curl themselves around my waist. I could feel it. I could feel those arms and fingertips through every fiber of my sweater, against every inch of my skin. I could feel goosebumps rise, and the cold sweat.

"Drew, what -"

"Shhh..."

He leaned his head on my shoulder and gently kissed my neck. I could feel his brown curls tickle my skin, and his cherry flavoured lips. I was breathing so heavily that I thought my lungs were going to explode.

"You never needed him, you know."

"But-"

"I needed you."

That night came back to me. That night at the fair where I had longed to kiss Drew atop the ferris wheel. I recalled his scent, the summer heat and the stars shining. I recalled how my lips had brushed against his, only, and how I had quickly drawn away with a gasp, surprised at my actions. I didn't look at him for the rest of the ride. When we got off, I ran. I wasn't running anywhere, I was just running. Running away from my thoughts, my feelings and my overall stupidity.

Now, Drew turned my head to his and brought his lips to mine. I tasted wonder. Honey, cherry and mint. The rhythm of his lips and tongue against mine was nothing like his footsteps. There were no stops, only steps. I could feel my tears return, and their bitter salt etched at my skin.

I didn't want to disappear anymore. All I wanted was Drew.

Drew. Drew. Drew.

The next thing I did was strange. I bit his lip. I bit hard into his upper lip until I tasted his blood against my tongue. It tasted much sweeter than my own. My own was bitter, but his was like candy. I wondered about this, but then I decided it didn't matter.

He was still holding my waist tightly, slender arms and fingertips. I drew my face away from his, mingled blood, saliva and tears meeting at my chin. I smiled. I smiled the smile he claimed "took his breath away". And he smiled. His mutilated lip curled up with the perfect one. It was a beautiful sight.

"Drew, do you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were real, that's all."

He laughed, and kissed me again. It was all good. Better than good - it was wonderful. Perfect. Like some kind of wonderful dream.

--

"So, when did it start?"

The woman crossed her milky legs. Her hawk eyes stared into Drew's. They weren't at all comforting. He felt like he was being analysed, and whatever he said would be taken as a lie. Even if it was true, even if it was a lie.

Whatever.

Drew looked away, licking the stitches that lined his upper lip.

"Was it after she died?"

After she died? After SHE died? After Rose's body, with her swan-like neck snapped and her slender wrists gashed, was dragged from her bedroom floor? He supposed that was a possibility. The woman moved her arm and he noticed something written in black on her clipboard.

"SUBJECT SUFFERS HALLUCINATIONS"

"Try to remember that day."

He recalled the day he had received the call from Rose's mother. He recalled the conversation and the tea. The slender arms and fingertips. Her black sweater. Her tears. Her kiss, and her bite. He recalled the taste of her lips and of his own blood. He recalled her words.

"She just wanted to make sure I was real..."

"Oh?"

The hawk eyes looked had a single word written in them: LIAR.

"Mrs.Kirk..."

"Yes?"

He turned and looked into her eyes. Those hawk eyes were so cold - so cold. He licked his stitches. He mouthed the words, and then said them.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

Rose smiled and sat beside him.

Wow, that's really good. Very descriptive. Is this part of a story? Because if it is you should post more. Great job.

this is really good, a bit confuzing but i think i got the picture, it would be nice if your were a bit more descriptive, or posted more of the story, or explained it more... over all it was good

This is all there is to the story, really. I can't really recall where the idea came from, but it came from somewhere. This is an older piece, but one of my favourites.

And thank you guys - I'll keep working on it, maybe even expand it eventually. I'm quite lazy, hahaha. I think this is a second or third draft of this... something along those lines.

Yeah. Merci : )

Oh, wow, I loved this.

Only one thing, very minor. I'm pretty sure that the spelling on cocoon is with an 'o' and not an 'a.'

Other than that, wow. I mean, WOW. This was so beautiful... marvelous job.

Fantastique! Just about all the French I know (got a 52 in grade nine) It's was all over the place, and really disjointed, but in a good way. Usually I have trouble following that kind of story, and give up half-way through. In this one, I was only confused for about thirty seconds when you made the switch in perspectives. Great use of language. And I definitely encourage you to delve into this a little more.

Aw, thanks so much guys : )

I loved it too. Too bad there isn't more to read. It would be so cool if you did add more. Tell me if you do. Anywayz, good job and keep up the good work!

Thanks.