War of Prey

19) Hearts on a String

"Oh, the fragile hearts that come her way, they never stood a chance."

 ***

Time heals all wounds, but what happens when we run out? People are the greatest remedy, but then we overdose. Nothing is permanent, yet we die. It takes more muscles to frown, yet those people are healthier. They say we are free, yet we are bound by iron chains. Life is too short to worry, yet we waste it doing just that. Honesty is the best policy, but how when no one obeys? Rules are meant to keep people safe, yet so many fall by the iron pen. Beauty is pain, yet we all suffer too much. 'Don't live your life in pain,' but why chase after love if that's all it gives? Why chase love when it kills you in the end? We live in a world where love and lust are the same, where hate and death coincide. Why love someone when that love will die with them?

It lived under my bed where no one would look. I think they'd say it was safer than the pills that I took. The tissues and towels all hidden underneath, and with every cut, it gets easier to breathe. Don't let them see, I told myself, they'd take it away. Maybe they wouldn't notice my skin ashen and gray. I had many others in different shapes and sizes, anything to keep away the virus; one of them lived on me, gracing my ears. I needed something, anything to kill my fears. I found peace only in the steady drip-drip, maybe sometimes in the occasional sip-sip. The bites they leave will never go. I don't mind; I kinda love them, though. It drives me insane, crazy, and mad; it isn't in a bottle, so it can't be that bad. Just one, I say, then I'll stop, but the demons come nonstop. Just a little blood, that's all I need. But it is never enough, always wanting to bleed. Never too deep, but never enough. This is the way I made myself tough. I wanted the pain to end, to die, but I didn't deserve to say goodbye. I wasn't perfect, but I craved to be. I wanted to be one in a million, not one of the same fish in the sea. I wanted to be better, but I couldn't stop the pain. I thought I could stop, but instead, I split the vein. I thought I was strong. I thought that they were wrong. The Sharp had been my friend. Promised me an end. Helped me feel better. Helped me write that letter. Gave me satisfaction and gave me the means to live, but it was just a distraction to take what I'd give. It wasn't my friend; my real ones knew; they begged me to, but I wouldn't let them through. Just a little cut was all it would take to get me hooked and bring me to the stake, wanting to die, but I didn't deserve it. But somehow, my veins were still slit; every time they took it, I'd get another. We were attached and couldn't live without each other. The pain should have killed anyone right away, but I suffered day after day. I hear them up above saying I didn't deserve to die. I hate to see them sad, to know I made them cry. I'm not in the sky because I chose to die. I chose to end the fight that one tragic night. Line after line, I finally saw the sign: the one that said peace, that my pain would cease. I chose to give it all up, taking my last sip from that cup. I thought I was done with the bottle. I thought I could stop going to the brothel. I thought my life had turned around. But here I am, lying in the ground. I blamed myself for everything that happened. I was waiting to hear that awful snapping. I took the last pill as my blood started to spill. I'm sorry I was worthless, as they used to say. It was all my fault, and now I must pay. I thought I could stick around. But no, here I am crying in the ground.