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Rated: XGC · Book · Horror/Scary · #2187629
Suitable refuse.
#958117 added May 3, 2019 at 1:16am
Restrictions: None
I Gave Her My Heart
If I gave you the world, would you love me?

She didn’t.

After everything I’ve tried, I thought she would feel something.

Why can’t she see that I’m the one for her?

Heather Gialli is my definition of perfection.

My grades are failing because all I do is stare at her in class, and daydream of how perfect our life could be together.

All day she doodles love hearts in her notebook while our teacher prattles on and on about god knows what.

Just the sight of her auburn ponytail makes my heart beat faster.

She barely ever spoke to me, although it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered while she was around.

A few weeks ago, I broke into her locker and left her a bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers; she thought they were from another guy.

That’s always been the way though.

I put in the work and some other schlub gets the glory.

Next I left a box of homemade chocolates, with a beautifully typed out poem underneath, in her locker.

Wouldn’t you believe it though, the damn chocolates melted, and obscured the poem.

The same damn guy got the credit for the chocolates too.

His name was Scott Bruhn, I say was because he no longer goes to our school.

It wasn’t long after that day that he left.

Weird coincidence.

I haven’t seen him though; it’s not like I could do anything to him anyway.

Me, the weird-looking geek, the fat kid in the glasses with the bad skin, against him, the attractive, muscular male cheerleader.

Who cares about Scott anyway?

This is my story, our story.

Next I left a small white teddy bear on her doorstep.

I found out where she lived after following her home one afternoon;

These will be such cute stories for our children, it feels just like one of those sappy romantic comedies.

You know the ones right?

They usually star a John Cusack type(that’s me), chasing after a Meg Ryan type(that’s her), going through a series of hilarious misadventures before finally getting the girl, and living happily ever after together.

Our unborn kids will love these stories.

After the teddy bear, I thought a grand proclamation was in order, so I busted into the school after hours, sneaked onto the sports oval with a few bottles of kerosene, and attempted to spell her name out on the grass in huge burning letters.

The damned fake turf however ruined my plan, spreading the fire so damn fast that the entire school nearly caught light.

Firefighters put it out before it got to the buildings; that’s what I heard at least, I was long gone by then.

My curse worked in my favor; some other poor sap copped the heat.

They imprisoned him for arson.

Like I said before though, it doesn’t matter.

I’m not going to even name him, because he isn’t important to this story.

After all of this effort, do you think she noticed me?

Do you think she even glanced in my general direction?

No, of course not.

Wouldn’t be much of a story if she did, now would it?

I knew my next gift had to be big, bigger than anyone had ever seen.

That got me thinking, what did she like?

Can you believe what I realized?

I didn’t know a damn thing about her, except that she often smelled like musk and cherub farts, and she drew love hearts in her notebook.

Love hearts and angel farts; since I couldn’t give her something from the heavens, I decided to do the next best thing.

I’d give her my heart, literally.

Heather would be sure to notice me then, right?

My last living memory was lying on her front porch, carving through my own chest with a cordless buzz-saw, a note in my other hand professing my love for her.

Afterwards, I was staring down at my own bloody breathless body; her mother was the first to find my corpse.

It wasn’t until I died that I saw what I’d done for her; my heart was in my hand.

The same damn hand that my letter was in.

My blood smudged my loving words, the paper turned to mush, and now I was powerless to do anything about it.

That’s just my luck.

I gave her my heart, and she never knew why.
© Copyright 2019 Laurie Razor (UN: laurie-razor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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