Short Stories

Hurt

When it first started happening, you couldn't even begin to comprehend why they began to distance themselves from you. Everything seemed fine to you, it was so sudden.

It began with less touches. You reached for their hand and they would move it away. It was occasional at first, so you didn't think much of it. But it got worse. Kisses became short, even rushed. Like an apology rather than affection.

They stopped sleeping in your bed. That was when you started crying, every time you were left alone. You thought you did something wrong. Trying to talk to them was virtually impossible. They'd retreat back behind the walls they built, the ones you'd spent years taking down, brick by brick. All of that meant nothing now.

It meant nothing, because they had left at 1:18 AM, the slamming of the door echoing through the house. It jolted you awake, and after a quick investigation of why the door slammed you got in your car and followed them.

It was a good twenty-five minutes before you saw them, standing on entirely the wrong side of the rail on that bridge, the one you can't drive over anymore.

You got out of your car, ignoring the fact it was starting to rain. You slowly moved towards them, cautious.

You could hear them mumbling things, their knuckles practically white from gripping the rail. As you stepped closer, you heard them repeating your name, apology after apology following suit. You can't stand to stay silent any longer, and you call out to them, but they've already let go, screaming your name. You run over to the rail, but you can't look. You hear the splash of the water, sending chills through your whole body. You can still feel the warmth from their hands on the rail, and you feel sick and you want to cry but nothing will come out. You're empty.

They never even said goodbye.

Someone must have seen what happened, because police began to arrive. You don't remember how long you'd been standing there, all you remember was hearing sirens, but muffled. A police officer tried to ask you questions, but you couldn't speak, couldn't think. It kept playing over and every time it hurt just a bit more, the scream. Your name, over and over.

The worst part about it all... they tried to ease the pain of losing them, but it just caused you more pain. Losing them hurt you just as much as they hurt themselves.

And there was nothing you could do.