My hands are around our throat, my nails digging into the skin.
A cry grows in volume now. Not from me. But we both know what did it. It's high and raw and filled with anger and desperation. His hands squeeze our shoulders, forcing my arms down. I grab for a knife, not giving a rat's ass if it hurts me too. I need him gone.
"That's not fair," he says.
We're crying. Tears are streaking down our face, slipping off our cheeks, into the sink. This is too much. He's getting upset. He's so emotional, he thinks crying will make everything better. But it won't. I won't cry. I can't. He will do it for me.
He's crying now "Why won't you cry?". I yearn to cry with him but I can't, not on the outside at least.
"We haven't been happy in so long," he cries harder, looking at me like I have betrayed our body, in a way I have, I suppose, "We were happier when we worked together, right? Why aren't we happy now? We are literally unable to separate. How are we still so sad? Please tell me." I close my eyes as I bring the knife to our throat, pressing it there until we feel a sharp burning pain there. He gasps at the pain of the knife at our throat, I do not. He is weak. "You'll be sad forever," he says. He is mad at me. I know he is. He's crying because he's disappointed me. He's crying because I broke him.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, tears threatening to squeeze out, "I'm so sorry." No, I can't cry, not in front of him, he will think even worse of me. I am the one who is STRONG, not this blubbering, crying coward who I wish I could be. .This is going so badly. I try to help him, to wipe away the tears, but he pushes me away. No no no it's too late. I lean back against the wall, crying, crying, crying. and then his eyes go dark as blood trickles from our mouth. I fall to the floor and we are dead.
btw I made the artwork.
Tell me your opinions on this lil story thing. I want to know what you think of this.
