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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Death · #1050315
If the world were to turn it's back on you, how would you react?
I awoke suddenly in a cold sweat, not knowing at first where I was. After a moment, though my head throbbed and my eyes would not easily focus, I was able to make out the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. Thank goodness for that. How I had ended up back in my bedroom, I didn't know. A rustling noise drew my attention beside me, and my heart jumped into my throat as I realized I wasn't alone. As light flooded the room from a passing car outside, I was able to distinguish that I did not know this person. I slid my legs over the side of the bed as carefully as possible. I did not want to wake this stranger just yet.

Through the pounding, I tried to dig through my memories of the previous evening's events. I tried to focus on the clock, to no avail. Seeing as how it was still dark outside, I took a guess that it was early morning. The stranger sighed and rolled over. I cringed, hoping they would not wake. This time, I wound up lucky. I went to stand, and my foot hit something cold and hard, which clinked with something else as I moved. The flood of memories came rushing back. I remembered my buddies and the bar. I remembered not wanting to drink. I was so close to getting over that point in my life. What happened?

I found my clothes and put them on, nearly falling over three or four times before. Another pair of car headlights washed over the walls of my room, and helped guide me towards my door. Slowly, gently, I opened the door and made my way into the hallway. The light was excruciatingly bright, and I stumbled to the switch, throwing myself on it to turn it off, then slid down the wall and held my head in my hands.

Sobs began to rack my entire body. What had I done? I was so close, so very close. I had seen the light at the end of the tunnel... what had gone through my mind and made me believe that even just one drink would be okay? I could not go through this again. The pain was only numbed temporarily by this horrendous habit, and I knew once I was sober, the pain would only come rushing back ten times as bad. My sobs died down, and I clawed my way up the wall to a standing position. Leaning on the wall for support, I stopped when I got to a window.

The moon was full and the stars were fully visible. I felt as though I were staring straight into a fairy tale, and that maybe, just maybe if I didn't look away, somehow everything would be all right. After a few minutes, I slowly made my way into my kitchen. I fumbled in the light of the moon until I found the drawer I was looking for. I pulled it open roughly, and began to sob again as I took out the razor sharp knife out. I ran my fingers down the blade, and the moonbeams coming into the kitchen caused it to glint and gleam.
I wrapped my hands tightly around the wooden handle and held it in the air, letting it hover there for a moment, then after one gut wrenching sob, I uttered the words, "Over the stars..."
© Copyright 2005 Crystal (crystal_03 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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