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Rated: · Short Story · Other · #1777389
psychopathic teenager
You. Beautiful thing. I want you, I have always wanted you. The one who made my day whenever you were in my sight. the one who shined brighter than the sun. You. You look beautiful, it's prom night, of course. Your long red hair straightened to perfection, your flowing emerald dress fitted and new. Perfect. I decide that tonight is the night, the night to talk to you. But I have waited for too long. I approach you, standing there with your friends, sniggering and making cruel remarks as I make my way forward. I ask you if you'd be kind enough to dance with me. Rejected. Right there in front of you, I collapse to my knees; crying, pleading and tugging and your dress. And still.. No. You shattered my heart into a million pieces, and this is a break that can't be fixed. I tell you as I walk away 'I'll hurt you the same one day'. You. Beautiful, ugly thing.
A vision. A Bride. Four years down the line, and I have not forgotten. The pain has not left my body. And it will not do so until you are over. If I can't have you, then why should anyone else? I watch you and your bridesmaids from the glass pane. I can small your happiness, taste anger on my tongue, burning it. Setting it on fire. You look stunning, dressed in white. But your no saint. I wait here, outside the window. Until your closest friends and younger sister leave the room. Little did you know, that would be your last goodbye. And there, I take you. Take you to my car. Driving, You. Screaming. Pleading. Begging for forgiveness in the back seat. But I know you lie through your evil eyes.
Tall forest. We are here. I drag you out, deep down into the forest, the forest I came to. Came to cry at. Because you didn't want me. I loved you. But not anymore. I force you to the ground. Struggle. You look deep into my eyes whilst I curl my fingers around your skinny neck. Squeeze. Snap. Silence.
And there you are, my beautiful bride. Frozen, forever looking into my eyes. Scared.
And there I leave you. And with one last glance I turn around and look at you, broken mess on the floor.
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