Hurt

"Vincent! Why?"  the heart-broken voice rang in his mind. 

"Why did you do this?" Vincent tried to shut  out the voice, to silence her wails of grief. He closed his eyes and turned away, I'm sorry. I tried to help you, but instead I hurt you the most, he thought.

"Cara!" Vincent woke still trembling from his dream. Groaning, he rubbed his face with his left hand. Looking down, he cried out in alarm as blood dripped down his fingers and stained the white sheets. 

"No! Stop it!" he shut his eyes and pulled at his dark, unkempt hair. When he opened his eyes again, the blood was gone. Running to the bathroom, he washed his hands. He scrubbed them furiously in  burning water, but he could not rid himself of the filthy feeling. In a fit of anger and exasperation, he shut off the water and stared at himself in the mirror. 

Pale and gaunt, his face resembled a man much older than eighteen. Dark bags hung below his grey eyes, and his black fringe had grown well past his eyes. He could no longer recognize himself. The boy in the mirror was only the disintegrating soul of someone who had hurt the person dearest to him. 

It has only been five days since he committed his sin....

He had been spending the day with his girl friend Cara, who was a year his junior. She was a quiet spoken girl with soft caramel hair and a large green eyes. When he walked her home, her abusive father stomped out of the house and angrily pulled Cara into the house for another one of his regular beatings. Appalled, Vincent had run into the house to stop the angry drunk  from beating Cara in his rampage. The ensuing struggled was over in a matter of seconds. The knife that Cara's father had been holding found its way to the man's chest where a red rose blossomed in his shirt. Dazed, Vincent stepped back from the man as Cara ran to her father.

"Father! Father!" she called to him, but the knife had embedded itself deep within his lungs, and his eyes widened with fear as he struggled for breath. Blood shot and slowly glazing over, his eyes closed in eternal sleep. 

"Vincent! Why?" 

"Why did you do this?" Cara cried in grief. 

"I-I-" Vincent could not find the words. Everything was a blur after that. Cara screamed at him to get out and he ran. He ran with tears in his eyes, and locked himself in his house. Cara never called him after that, and he was afraid of what she would say if he went to see her.

The memory was abruptly cut off when someone knocked at his door. Surprised,  he opened the door and came face to face with two police officers. 

"Hello Vincent Hemlock, we'd like to ask you a few questions-" as the officer spoke, and overwhelming surge of anger and grief possessed Vincent. He lunged at the officer, pulled the pistol from the man's belt and pointed it at his own forehead. He was no longer seeing the two officers, but Cara. He reached out with one hand, grasping vainly at the caramel strands of Cara's image. Her emerald green eyes seemed to be teasing him, and he called her name. She smiled and her image disappeared from Vincent's eyes. Her departure left a black hole in Vincent's heart, and he let his hand drop back to his side. 

"I'm sorry Cara." he whispered.

"Hey wait-!" The officer lunged to stop the boy, but was too late. A loud Bang! and Vincent collapsed on the ground, a scarlet rose blooming in the carpet beneath his head. 

Reviews

[zach h.]

This kind of a dark story. I'm sure that sentance is very helpful in this review since you probably already knew that! ;) Anyway. I like the writing style in this story. It's to the point, but it has a bit of suspense to it as well. It's a nice combination. The plot of the story (besides being dark) has depth which is good to see in short stories. All in all, you did very well. Thank you for sharing this.

[J Tesla]

Thanks for your feedback! :)