I began writing this a few days back. I was not sure if I was even going to continue with it then suddenly the entire stoy came to me as I sat down to do a little writing. I reposted the first part, the orriginal, and finished off the story.
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"I will always be here," a voice whispers within my own mind.
I clamp my eyes closed and shake my head trying to rid myself of that voice. That voice that will never truly be gone. That voice that belongs to me.
A hand moves over my back and I cringe. "You're not real," I speak out into the emptiness of the room.
"You know how real I am," that voice whispers to me again.
I find myself reaching for a bottle of little white pills. My hands are shaking uncontrollably and I struggle to free the sweet medicine within. The top finally pops open and a few pills escape onto the floor, but I am unconcerned with them at this point. I tap a few out of the bottle into my hand, two or maybe three, and throw them into the back of my mouth. I don't bother to fetch some water and with a hard swallow I force the pills down a dry throat. They leave a pasty, bitter taste in my mouth but to me ... to me it is a sweetness like no other. These little candies keep the voice at bay.
I sit on the floor and wait for the effects to come. "Why do you push me away so?" that voice speaks a little louder now. It knows soon it will be sent back to its prison. "You could never survive without me."
I scratch at the back of my neck, my nails breaking the skin. It was the pain I needed. It helps sometimes to quiet the voice.
I feel hands on my back again and I can't help but look back over my shoulder. It looks just like me, but nothing like me. Those eyes are empty and dead most of the time. Other days they are sad and distant. It smiles a cold and dead smile and places both hands on my neck. "We are one in the same you know. We share the same body and the same soul," it speaks lowly, its voice becoming distant and echoed. The pills are beginning to pull it away and I feel it tighten its grip on my neck. "Why won't you end our suffering," its voice is almost nothing more then a whisper now. "A knife," it releases my neck and I close my eyes. I don't want to see it anymore. I don't want to hear what it has to say. It is so hard not to do as it begs so often for me to do. "Your wrists. Do it, please, and we will be rid of this life."
Hot tears streak down my face. Is it gone? I don't hear it anymore. I open one eye and look around. It is gone finally and I feel exhausted. The pills, they make me sleepy. I curl up on the floor and let dreamless sleep come over me. I hope it is in a better mood tomorrow.
'What is that sound,' my first thoughts as I woke from a coma like sleep. It was a horrid noise, high pitched and buzzing. 'My alarm clock,' finally reality began to penetrate the haze that still lingered from my slumber.
My body was cold and stiff from the night's sleep on the floor and I pushed myself up slowly, my joints popping one by one as they came into use. A burning pain made itself known as I finally got myself up. A quick look revealed my off white tank top to be stained in half dried blood and the flesh on the left side of my chest near the shoulder was shredded. I let out a sigh and look down at my hands. The wound was my doing as my right hand was also covered in blood. It was something I did on occasion as I slept. I would dig my nails into my skin and begin scratching over and over again.
I hear a distant laugh and glance around me quickly. I am still alone and shake my head once before making my way into the bathroom. The mirror on the medicine cabinet door reviles a face that does not belong to me, but one that has always been mine. Those dead eyes though, those were not mine. It grins at me as it wakes from its slumber as well. I see its lips move but no words are released and I open the mirrored door breaking eye contacted with it. Inside the cabinet is a dozen or move translucent brown bottles, all gifts from my doctor. He seemed to always be changing my meds and saying "let's see if this helps with that." I find myself only taking them when I have to now days; when I can't fight that voice on my own. My finger moves over each bottle one by one. I am looking for a certain one; it won't make me sleep but usually takes the edge off just enough so I can go to work. I know it starts with a B or maybe it was a D or was it with an R? OK, so I am not sure what it starts with, all of them are almost fifteen letters long and even a sane person could not pronounce them. I do know they are the little pale blue pills though. As soon as I fine them I remove one and place it in the back of my mouth. I turn the water on to just a trickle in the sink before me and rinse the blood from my hand before cupping it under the water. When my hand is full I pore it into my mouth and swallow it along with the pill.
My alarm clock is still buzzing in my bedroom. I rub the sleep out of my eyes as I move to kill that retched noise. As soon as I am within arms reach I turn it off then proceed to turn it back on to sound off at the same time tomorrow. I never know when or where I will fall asleep and this assures that I will at least get up on time.
With that sound gone for the day I pull on my work uniform. It is nothing flattering, just a black pair of slacks and a burgundy colored top with a black collar. In my humble opinion it is the ugliest thing I have ever seen but it serves its purpose and all the customers can easily tell we are employed there. With a glace at the clock I decide I do not have enough time to brush my hair and just pull it back into a messy pony tail. I grab my bag and dash out the front door of my apartment and make my way down to the bus stop at a fast paced walk. I arrive not a moment to soon as the bus pulls up to the curb. I make my way towards the back of the bus but don't bother to try and find a seat. The bus seems crowded today, but I can to tell if it really is. Are these people real? Are they all really here? I wrap an arm around a bar at the back of the bus and lean against it keeping my eyes down to the floor. I have found that it was always best to keep to myself in situations such as this.
About fifteen minutes into my bus ride a woman got on the bus and sat in a seat to the right of where I stood. Something was off about her that made me feel uneasy. I feel my breathing become shallow and quick as I can not help but to look over at her. I find her already staring at me. I force a smile and glance down at the floor again but find I can not keep my eyes there before they jerk back to the woman. She pushes a hand into the pocket of her over sized coat and begins digging around for something, her eyes always on me. After what seemed hours her hand shows itself again clutching onto something tightly. She held out her hand offering the object. A small pocket knife rested in the center of her palm. I shake my head a few times and swallow hard. "You're not real," I whisper to her. The woman in response gives me a smile and opens the knife. She brings the knife to her neck and presses the tip of the blade into the soft spot in her neck, just above where both her collar bones met. I can not take my eyes off of her now. Blood begins to ooze from beneath the blade that she continues to press deeper into her throat now. She does not let the small blade's descent stop until all of the silver metal has disappeared from sight. A tiny cough escapes from her allowing a trail of blood to escape form her mouth and linger down to her chin. She finally pulls the blade form her throat with a twisted grin on her face.
"Freedom is now mine," she speaks in a horse voice.
I watch as her blood flows down her shirt and spills out onto the floor of the bus. I shake my head as the putrid smell of hot blood fills my nose and saturates the air to the point I find a metallic taste in my mouth.
"Amy," I hear my name spoken and finally I am allowed to look away from this seen. My eyes fall upon a familiar face, one that I know that is real.
"Aoiro," I speak his name. He still steals my breath away each time I see him, just as he did the very first time my eyes greeted him. He is beautiful. He has deep brown, almond shaped eyes that peeked out from beneath shaggy, raven colored hair. He always dressed in a detailed fashion called visual kei that I loved. He looked like he had just stepped out of some anime most of the time. He is so unique. The first time he asked me out on a date I told him it would not be a good idea and told him of my illness and that he would only end up getting hurt at some point. I tried to tell him that I was not worth it. He did not back down though. "If you tell me that you are genuine then I don't mind getting hurt," he whispered into my ear just before he kissed me for the first time. That was two years ago and I have been his ever since.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the woman has evaporated into thin air confirming she existed only in my mind. Aoiro had a way of showing up at the rite times in my life. Still griping onto the pole, I extend an arm out for him. He must have seen the distress on my face as he hurried to me and wrapped his arms tightly around me. "Everything is alright," he speaks softly to me before pressing his lips gently to mine in a kiss.
I said nothing to him of what I had just seen. There was no reason to upset him. Instead I just held onto him, refusing to release him.
"How about I come over to your apartment tonight?" he spoke softly, refusing to release me as well.
I nod a few times and feel a smile form on my lips. "That would be wonderful. I can make us dinner." I may be crazy, but cooking is one talent that I possessed.
"It is a date then," he said and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
We stood there, holding onto one another for the rest of the bus ride. We both worked close to one another. I worked at a little restaurant and he at a tattoo parlor just a few blocks from the restaurant. We exited the bus together and he walked me to my work. "I will see you tonight," he said before giving me a kiss goodbye and proceeding to walk down to his place of work.
Thankfully the day went on without another outburst form my mind, though I think I handed someone an empty plate that I thought had food on it. I got an odd and confused look from a customer but they were a regular and knew that I was not completely right. I seen another waitress bringing him another plate of food a few minuets latter.
Surprisingly the day passed by for me quickly and before I knew it it was time to catch the bus home. I did not waist time heading to the bus stop. Aoiro got off work an hour after I did and I wanted to get home, get a shower and start dinner before he got there. I only had a ten minute wait before the bus pulled up to the curb. This time the bus was almost empty and I sat down in the closes seat. I covered my eyes and began to hum a song; I did not want my mind to have time to invent something to distract itself. Thirty minuets later I was at my stop and eagerly left the bus behind as I jogged up to my apartment. I pulled out my keys at the front door but found that my door was already unlocked. Something that I was bad for, leaving the door unlocked. I sometimes would see myself locking it but in reality would not. I let out a sigh and enter, scolding myself for leaving the door unlocked again. I throw my bag into the closet next to the front door and kick off my shoes throwing them into the same closet.
I skip into my living room and turn on the radio. I needed to keep my mind busy until Aoiro got there. I continue my skipping and move into the bedroom where I decide on a powder blue dress that was perhaps a little to short but it looked cute on me. I bring the dress into the bathroom with me and after a quick shower I slip it on. I brush out my hair and let it hang loosely around my face and over my shoulders. A quick application of makeup then I dash into the kitchen to start dinner. I had never really kept food around until I met Aoiro. After we become officially girlfriend and boyfriend then I began to keep food stocked for just such occasions. I sing along to the music that blared from the radio as loudly as I could, focusing on the words to keep my mind preoccupied. I pull some chicken and herbs from the refrigerator and began working as quickly as possible. The clock reviled that I had maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before Aoiro should be here and I wanted to at least get it in the oven before he showed up. My finest and quickest work ever performed. Now I could relax as he should be showing up any time now.
I turned the radio off and sat down on the couch as I waited.
Thirty minutes passed and I pulled the chicken out of the oven. Aoiro had not arrived yet and I began to worry. "What if something happened to him? Maybe he just missed his bus? Or what if he decided not to come? Did he come to his senses and see that I was not worth the pain?' I made up some rice and steamed some green beans as these thoughts coursed threw my mind.
Thirty more minutes passed as I sat the table for two. "He is not coming. Even if he did miss his bus he would have been able to catch the next one and be here by now.'
"Maybe he is dead," that voice came to me now. "So lucky for him to be free of this life then."
"No," I say lowly as I try and fight tears now. "He is fine. He is just late."
"Or maybe he is just not going to come. I think he is done with you," I hear that voice say and feel hands on my back as it takes form. "You knew this day would come eventually. No one could love someone like you."
"He loves me," my voice cracks as tears begin to slide down my cheeks.
"How could someone like him love you?" that voice questions my logic.
"He," I search my mind for some proof; some reason he could love me.
"He couldn't!" the voice interrupts before I can find my answer. "He used you up and when he was done left you alone just as he found you. You know you are not worth the trouble. I can not believe you actually thought he could love you. You are such an idiot."
I begin to cry uncontrollably and drop down to my knees. "He will come. He will come," I begin to repeat these words over and over again trying to convince myself. I feel nails dig into the exposed skin on my back and look over my shoulder. It has a distorted smile smeared across its face.
"Don't cry," it whispers to me. "You are not worth such painful tears."
I wipe the tears from my cheeks and turn to look at it fully.
"You are so tired of hurting aren't you?" again it whispers to me and tightly places its hands around my neck.
I struggle to breath but feel a sense of peace in this suffering.
"You can release yourself from this pain you know," its eyes widen as it tries to choke the breath from me.
"No," my voice barely escapes from the crushing weight on my throat.
It releases me and I gasp in a massive about of air, forcing it deep into my oxygen starved lungs. It moves from my sight of view for a moment then returns. "Then I will have to release us from this pain. Unlike you, I am not a coward," its voice sounds angry as it quickly forces out the words.
A flash of silver moves towards my throat, followed by a sharp pain that runs across the front of my neck just under my entire jaw line. It stands before me, a disgustingly pleased look painted on its face; that face that belonged to me. My butcher knife rested in its hand, the knife that I had just used to prepare the food. I feel warmth moving down my chest, saturating my dress. I am afraid to look but I force my eyes down anyways. My heart quickens as my eyes fall on the blood spilling out from my neck, my heart only forcing it out faster now. I press both hands tightly to my slit throat, desperately tying to keep the remaining blood within. A wave seems to go over me and I feel dizzy and light headed. I let my body fall to the side. My hands release my neck, there is no more strength left in them to even try to control my own bleeding now.
"He will come," my voice can barely even be heard by me. "He will save me from myself, just as he so often does for me."
It knees down beside me. Its face is different now. Its eyes are no longer dead and distinct, they are happy now. "Not this time," it says softly then places its hand over my eyes as darkness envelops me.
"I found her body," Aoiro says to a short man he sits across from in an artificially lit room, the man jotting things down on a pad of paper as he listens. "It was my fault she killed herself. I was late. I lost track of time as I was practicing what to say to her. It had to be perfect." He pulled a little silver ring with a sapphire set in it from his pocket. "I was going to give this to her. I was going to ask her to merry me."