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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Death · #883122
A short horror story, Nothing about it true at all.
HER,
By Diana Joyce

Looking through my pictures, acting like I don't know what I am looking for (though I do), pondering on each one, hoping the next one is not you, ( yet hoping that it is ), I come to the one of me and her holding each other, laughing. Tears come to my eyes and slip to the picture. In my daze of depression, it looks like the picture is crying with me. "You miss her too?" I whisper, wishing to God it could answer me back.

In my dreams I see that beautiful day, "our last day." Only it turns into a nightmare. The beautiful shining sun turns gray, the flower scented air turns into a foul decaying one. She looks up at me and her smiling face turns into fear. She starts to slip and I look over the bike rail we were sitting upon that only a minute ago was 2 feet down, now at least 200. I grabbed her hand, Help me she pleaded softly. Her short blonde hair pasted to her face from the fears sweat! Just as I think I have her and I tell her so, she smiles at me, her small green eyes so full of trust, 'Than I don't know why but I let her go'! I can hear her terrified scream "WHY" as she slips to a horrible death.

I awake dripping in a cold sweat, Why.. why do I always let her go? I know she died in a car accident, but in my head, in my dreams 'I kill her,' It still feels the same, so much ' guilt.' If I was not to let her go than outside of my dreams would she live? The following Tuesday I return to school, after missing a week. The teacher watches me carefully as I take me seat. My eyes slowly as if I had no control look at the empty seat next to mine. I wanted to close my eyes and just picture her there in her black jeans and green shirt she loved to wear because the green matched her eyes. Its the best gift anyone has ever given me and fits me so well she had said the day after her birthday when I got to her old run down apt. She was poor but she had an amazing mother who took an avid interested in her daughters life. Her mother was still in a coma from the car accident. Last week that took her from me and throes who loved her. The doctors fear she may never wake, and if she does she may never be able to walk again. I just willed my eyes to close and hear her voice telling me how much fun she had with me that weekend, Asking me if I was coming over for dinner like I did every week because it was Tuesday pizza night and how we loved our Tuesdays. But she was not there, she was gone. All that was there was an empty seat and to the side was her name she had almost carved into the old wood with her purple pen. The ink looked as if it was still wet!
I burst into tears and fall to my knees as if in agony. I'm so sorry I scream, Everyone stops. I can feel their looks of pity. The teacher runs to my side and I raise my tear streaked face and smile, in my messed up head I was remembering how much her and I liked this one, I push my salty lips to the teachers and kiss them passionately. I can hear the gasps of my classmates in the background. Softly the teach pushes me away and sits me down. I feel my eyes roll up into my head and everything goes black. "Call 911 I hear someone yell, Feeling hands all over me carrying me to I don't know where."

Suddenly I am back in the dream. As it repeats itself I watch myself let her go and as she opens her mouth to scream I awake in my room, my blankets to my neck, feeling suffocated I sit up. I turn on the lamp next to my small twin size bed, and I look at my night table. I don't remember anything I think as I look down and see a plate of food my mother must have left for me. And a knife, A knife? Why did she leave me a knife? I know why, she knows I killed her, She most know.. She loved her too. Almost like another member of the family my mother would always say. She would always say things like you two are so different, Me with my black hair dark eyes and tan skin and her with light blonde hair green eyes and so very pale. So different yet so very much alike. We clicked from the moment we seen each other 7 years ago in 4th grade. She came up to me her hair not much longer than but her eyes her green eyes always the same, small and so very friendly. Hi I remember her saying, would you like to be my friend? From that day on we were like Siamese twins, We would finish each other sentences or pick up the phone before it rang just knowing one of us needed to talk! I don't even remember my life before her. Than with out even thinking with out even a pause I lift the knife and strike my wrist deep and hard, I could feel the dark warm liquid as it seeps down my arm. Growing cold and dizzy, I collapsed to the ground.

I hit hard but could feel no pain nor fear as I look at my blood soaked arm, I could see it pouring out and stopping with each heart beat. ' Darkness quickly subdues me.' Once again I am in my dream.' only' something is different, she is in my place and I am in hers! I start to slip and she reaches out and grabs my hand, help me I pleaded softly, I got you she whispered. I look up smiling and feeling so much trust. Suddenly she lets go! I hear myself scream 'why' as I slip to a horrible death. ' I feel this tremendous pressure' and as quickly as it came its gone. I open my eyes and look next to myself, there she was laying next to me our blood touching, We sit up and she looks at me. She reaches out and grabs my hand. Looking up at the bike rail two feet above us we stand. What's going on I whisper? Were dead she answers quietly..
© Copyright 2004 Diana Joyce (dianahottiee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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