Chapter 3 - Silhouette
Submitted January 16, 2009 Updated April 5, 2010 Status Incomplete | So, I've been doing a few song fics lately. You all know what those are, don't you? Taking the lyrics of a song and creating a story? Okay, good. So these are the ones I've written. Have fun.
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Chapter 3 - Silhouette
Chapter 3 - Silhouette
Silhouette (Song fic of Not Good Enough For Truth in Cliché by Escape the Fate)
“Freak!” she screams at me, driving by in your boyfriends convertible. “Go dig your own grave, pervert!”
I sigh, watching the backlights as the two drive away. I clutch my chest, letting the hurtful words sink in and sting my heart.
“Those words came from my enemy of the last five years, they didn’t come from you,” I tell myself quietly. “They didn’t come from you.”
My footsteps quite on the pavement, I open the screen door and enter my dark home, feeling my way along the wall until my hand finds the switch. Click. The lights flicker on, blinding me for only a moment, until my eyes adjust. I feel a pulling, clenching in my stomach, and, sighing, I enter the kitchen. My eyes fall upon the fridge and my stomach clenches again. My fingers clutch my shirt as I open the fridge door, eyes searching the shelves. Nothing.
“Sorry,” the murmured apology enters the air, myself not registering the meaning. I close the door and head to the pantry. “Maybe here.” Opening the pantry door, letting my eyes scan the shelves a second time. Nothing.
My shoulders slump, a sigh coming from deep within me. “This isn’t good.” My body starts to feel the effects of not having eaten for three days. “I can’t go on for much longer like this.”
Feeling depression setting in, I turn my head away from the empty pantry. Without really meaning to, my eyes settle on the knife I left out.
“Down the road, not across,” I murmur. But then I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to know what its like to die alone.”
Dragging my feet, I got to my bedroom, tears slipping down my cheeks. “How does it feel when tears freeze when you cry?” I murmur, remembering you. “The blood in your veins must be twenty below. You’re too cruel to be human.”
I droop my shoulders, sitting on the bed, a bullet in one hand and a revolver in the other. “Juliet…”
I open the cylinder and load the one round into a random slot, then spin the cylinder. Maybe tonight…
I cock the pistol and set it against my head. Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette, finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet, hoping to see you tonight. My eyes fall upon the window, and I smile. Out from the window I see her backdrop silhouette. But then I remember.
This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget.
I shake my head. Tonight, it has to be tonight.
Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette, finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet, I have to see you tonight, I will see you tonight. My finger shakes on the trigger, but I steel myself for the impact and pull. Nothing.
Out from the window I see her backdrop silhouette, but this blood on my hands is something I just cannot forget. It will not be tonight, but I need it tonight.
It’s just something I cannot forget or forgive.
So for now, I’ll just take it down a notch. I stand and stride from the room, the revolver laying on the bed, surrounded by the light from the street. I won’t forgive you. She stopped me.
Purpose in my steps, I get into my car and start the engine, pulling from the driveway into the street, the wheels rolling over loose pebbles. I scan the street; nothing. I smile. Now is the time. Stomping on the gas, the car lurches and screeches down the street, following my directions. I smile as I crash my car through your window; now is the time. I climb from my car and make sure you’re still alive, then retrieve my knife, just in time to kill you.
I blink. Sitting my room playing Russian roulette, my finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet, my breathing shallow, hoping I will see you tonight. Out from the window I see her backdrop silhouette. My eyes fall to the hand resting in my lap. This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget. I won’t allow myself to forget this. So I will sit in my room and play Russian roulette, until my finger pulls the trigger to my dear Juliet.
But I always look out the window and see her backdrop silhouette. These hands are dirtied with the blood; it is something I cannot forget, something I just cannot forget.
I can’t take this anymore, my mind whimpers, I can’t take this anymore.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I moan, “I can’t feel what you’ve done to me.” I fling my head back, tears running down my cheeks. “I can’t take this anymore!”
My eyes close, trying to take this down a notch, trying to forget. I see myself crash my car through your window. I pull the trigger on the revolver. Nothing.
Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette, my finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet, I feel the salty tears spilling from eyes. I imagine seeing her backdrop silhouette out from the window, her blood on my hands something I cannot forget.
Again, I pull the trigger, sitting in this room playing Russian roulette, finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet. My throat hoarse and raw, I pray this time my luck will run out. But my eyes open again, and out from the window I see her backdrop silhouette. Blood pours down the window frame, this blood on my hands is something I cannot forget.
Something I cannot forget.
Boom.
“Freak!” she screams at me, driving by in your boyfriends convertible. “Go dig your own grave, pervert!”
I sigh, watching the backlights as the two drive away. I clutch my chest, letting the hurtful words sink in and sting my heart.
“Those words came from my enemy of the last five years, they didn’t come from you,” I tell myself quietly. “They didn’t come from you.”
My footsteps quite on the pavement, I open the screen door and enter my dark home, feeling my way along the wall until my hand finds the switch. Click. The lights flicker on, blinding me for only a moment, until my eyes adjust. I feel a pulling, clenching in my stomach, and, sighing, I enter the kitchen. My eyes fall upon the fridge and my stomach clenches again. My fingers clutch my shirt as I open the fridge door, eyes searching the shelves. Nothing.
“Sorry,” the murmured apology enters the air, myself not registering the meaning. I close the door and head to the pantry. “Maybe here.” Opening the pantry door, letting my eyes scan the shelves a second time. Nothing.
My shoulders slump, a sigh coming from deep within me. “This isn’t good.” My body starts to feel the effects of not having eaten for three days. “I can’t go on for much longer like this.”
Feeling depression setting in, I turn my head away from the empty pantry. Without really meaning to, my eyes settle on the knife I left out.
“Down the road, not across,” I murmur. But then I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to know what its like to die alone.”
Dragging my feet, I got to my bedroom, tears slipping down my cheeks. “How does it feel when tears freeze when you cry?” I murmur, remembering you. “The blood in your veins must be twenty below. You’re too cruel to be human.”
I droop my shoulders, sitting on the bed, a bullet in one hand and a revolver in the other. “Juliet…”
I open the cylinder and load the one round into a random slot, then spin the cylinder. Maybe tonight…
I cock the pistol and set it against my head. Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette, finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet, hoping to see you tonight. My eyes fall upon the window, and I smile. Out from the window I see her backdrop silhouette. But then I remember.
This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget.
I shake my head. Tonight, it has to be tonight.
Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette, finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet, I have to see you tonight, I will see you tonight. My finger shakes on the trigger, but I steel myself for the impact and pull. Nothing.
Out from the window I see her backdrop silhouette, but this blood on my hands is something I just cannot forget. It will not be tonight, but I need it tonight.
It’s just something I cannot forget or forgive.
So for now, I’ll just take it down a notch. I stand and stride from the room, the revolver laying on the bed, surrounded by the light from the street. I won’t forgive you. She stopped me.
Purpose in my steps, I get into my car and start the engine, pulling from the driveway into the street, the wheels rolling over loose pebbles. I scan the street; nothing. I smile. Now is the time. Stomping on the gas, the car lurches and screeches down the street, following my directions. I smile as I crash my car through your window; now is the time. I climb from my car and make sure you’re still alive, then retrieve my knife, just in time to kill you.
I blink. Sitting my room playing Russian roulette, my finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet, my breathing shallow, hoping I will see you tonight. Out from the window I see her backdrop silhouette. My eyes fall to the hand resting in my lap. This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget. I won’t allow myself to forget this. So I will sit in my room and play Russian roulette, until my finger pulls the trigger to my dear Juliet.
But I always look out the window and see her backdrop silhouette. These hands are dirtied with the blood; it is something I cannot forget, something I just cannot forget.
I can’t take this anymore, my mind whimpers, I can’t take this anymore.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I moan, “I can’t feel what you’ve done to me.” I fling my head back, tears running down my cheeks. “I can’t take this anymore!”
My eyes close, trying to take this down a notch, trying to forget. I see myself crash my car through your window. I pull the trigger on the revolver. Nothing.
Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette, my finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet, I feel the salty tears spilling from eyes. I imagine seeing her backdrop silhouette out from the window, her blood on my hands something I cannot forget.
Again, I pull the trigger, sitting in this room playing Russian roulette, finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet. My throat hoarse and raw, I pray this time my luck will run out. But my eyes open again, and out from the window I see her backdrop silhouette. Blood pours down the window frame, this blood on my hands is something I cannot forget.
Something I cannot forget.
Boom.
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