our fall in may||BWS (completed)

Chapter Six

After we were seated and drinks ordered, she began with the interrogation.

"I thought I would go first so you could maybe be more comfortable. So, ask away." She said warmly.

"Okay...what was it like before you lost your sight?" I said the first thing that came to mind.

"I remember some of it, but that was seven years ago. I remember that my favorite color was blue and I loved the brightness of day. I also remember dancing." She smiled at a memory.

"Were you a dancer?" I asked in my usual quiet voice.

"Oh, yeah. I danced since I would walk." She chuckled light and our drinks were placed in front of us. "I was on a team. I remember one move that went like this..." she gestured with her hands her favorite dance techniques, specifically ballet was her favorite. I watched her face in utter fascination as she spoke so passionately of dancing. I almost cried to think how she lost all it in a matter of moments.

"Who was Camilla?" She mentioned the name several times and she let her hands fall. Her dog nudged her leg, sensing she was distressed.

"Camilla Martin was my best friend since we was two. She was killed as soon as the bomb went off, so she didn't feel pain. Her death was fast." I felt my eyes begin to sting at how sad her face looked.

"I'm sorry-" I noticed my hand was raised, as if I would touched her hand. I jerked it back quickly, clutching it to my chest as I squeezed my eyes shut and began several deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" She asked cautiously.

"Um-yes. My caretaker texted me. I have to go home. It was nice seeing you." I left a twenty on the table and ran out. I peeked at her as I ran across the street. She had her sun glasses off and was wiping her unmoving eyes. Her shoulder hunched over and shifted up and down.

She had been crying the whole time.

And I made her cry worse.

I bit my lip to keep from joining her tears and ran in the direction of my house.

I almost touched her. I could've touched her. I've almost slipped before, and that didn't end well.

She was fascinating, that girl was. How she smiled and was content even though she could never see her favorite color blue again or the sunlight. She was fine with being blind and it astounded me.

I made it home in ten minutes and ran up the stairs after shutting the door.

I ran straight to my room and slammed the door behind me. I was thankful Connor had school and Linda was working.

As soon as that door was locked, I broke.

I pulled at my hair as I hyperventilated and the tears poured down my face. I was always a quiet crier, no matter how bad it was. But the screams were louder than airhorns.

I shook my head and hit the heals of my hands against it, as if trying to rid my mind of everything.

"Stupid, stupid!" I screamed repeatedly at myself as I squeezed my eyes shut, barely able to get any oxygen into my lungs. "Why cant you just be normal?! Why cant you just touch her?!" I coughed and coughed as I felt like I was drowning. My eyes hurt like acid was being poured into them as I continued.

I've drowned so many times in my pain, taping myself back together just for it to loose its grip again from the liquid burn of my sorrow.

"Why didn't you die?! Why couldn't she have killed me?! Why can't it just happen already?!" I cried as I fell on the floor with my hands tightly over my ears. I rocked back and forth against the carpet, crossing my legs tight to my chest as I screamed, wishing for death.

"All-" heave "I want-" heave "To do-" heave "is die!" Sob.

My throat felt like sandpaper as I continued to sob. I hated myself. I wanted to die. I continued to call myself out on my failures until I felt a familiar feeling. I got up quickly and ran to the bathroom.

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I slouched away from the toilet and wiped the evidence of my sickness from the corner of my mouth. I breathed out.

I've gotten sick four times already within an hour. I was at least calm enough that I could breathe, but it was still like I was drowning.

I crawled over to the sink and opened the familiar draw.

I went past the wash cloths and hand towels until I got to the back, retrieving the one escape I know.

I yanked off my shirt, witnessing the white and red lines horizontal across my arms. I brought the sharp blade to the middle of my arm and began hiccuping with more tears as I dragged it across my skin. Red seeped from my new wound as I created another and another until I had six in total, three on each arm.

"One day...it'll be deep enough." I spoke to myself in hope as I wrapped the gauze around the six symbols of my hatred.

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WeLl I cAnT wRiTe EmOtIoNaL sHiT

LEAVE A COMMENT ON YOUR OPINION OF EMOTIONAL, UNSTABLE BRADLEY

That was intense guys holy fuck

I updated four times today. 👏👏👏

-Rose