Last Hope.

Written at around 06.00am in the morning.

He clings on to her shirt. Her white, smooth blouse is getting creased now - his fingers twist around the fabric, creating black lines and ugly patterns along the surface. She's kneeling on the bed, looking down at the crumpled body of a boy with just one hope left.

Hairs like feathers rustle and glide messily on her shirt, against her stomach; moving about every minute or so only to catch the girl's attention above. His cheek against her bellybutton is hot now; but she doesn't dare move. Her eyes uneasily shift towards his hand again, twisting itself into the fabric; but it doesn't hurt.

Things begin to fill her heart. A light flickers wearily inside her, slowly extinguishing; insects and gloom and spider webs crawl down her throat, and now knives cut through the inside of her stomach and her heart. She's bleeding now - but no-one can see. No-one can feel it, except her - it's just her and the pain and the boy who won't let go.

What do I do, what do I do? She doesn't know. She doesn't move a muscle, and wonders if the boy's eyes are closed. She can feel her own welling up, the internal bleeding becoming too much now, and it spills over her cheeks in the form of salty water instead. Why isn't it blood?

She can see it, she can see it all. His hope, his neediness, his dependence, his fear - displayed in front of her like tarot cards in front of a seer. And she really could see the future; she could see his security, his independence - or what was left of it - being completely, utterly crushed. How could that happen? To the boy who won't let go. To the boy who's clinging on to his last, final hope - the girl. Her shirt. Her love.

And it's too much to bear, and she doesn't know quite what she's doing, but she reaches over now and touches the feathery, light gold hair that always managed to lure her into stroking it. It's like she's touching nothing - she runs her nimble fingers through his hair, and pushes him slightly closer to her.

But she lets go almost immediately.

She can't be doing this, she can't encourage him. Because she knows what's coming, and it's hard, it's so, so hard - because you can just see the love gushing out of him from every single pore in his body. The knives are there again - the blades are slower this time against her insides, making it more painful than it ever was before.

But she does it for reasons. She is not heartless. He doesn't know this now, and for weeks he will think she is - but she does it for reasons. Reasons hard to explain.

Staring at his hand still intertwined with her shirt, his fingers like claws, never seeming to let go - she squeezes her eyes and wishes the tears away. Her own hand slowly comes down - and gently, she puts hers over his, and lightly tugs at it. His fingers slowly and reluctantly let go of her, his cheek moving away from her hot stomach now; and he's staring at her fingers holding his away from her with a frown on his face - and then he twists his head to look at her.

Those eyes, those eyes - the colours of the sky on a cloudless day. They're not green, they're not blue. They are somewhere in between, yet on days they vary - sometimes they are the ocean, sometimes they are grass-like. She can never decide, though she has tried to for years. And now they look up at her, questioning her, childishly asking her what the matter is. Innocence floats about the room and she breathes it in - a mistake. They turn into even more blades, wounding her and making her bleed bleed bleed like she's never bled before. And she answers his question, his desperate question of ''why'', and it's so hard, but she pushes through the tears, the pain, the knives; and she must say it now. The words are crawling up her throat like vomit, and they force themselves out. And the blades cut her while she's saying it.

''This has to end.''

Reviews

[jayfan1]

Very compelling and thought provoking. It leaves me very curious as to what exactly happened and who they are. The boy is very well done POV speaking. I would love to read more of this... but I guess thats why they say "leave them wanting more". Very nice work.