I swear I think I've written this chapter on word three thousand million BILLION times, which is a shit load of times, I know, I'm good at math. :3
Enjoy!!
Chapter 13: One Last Visit to See Paul Continued A.K.A. Living in the Moment
It was dark, I couldn’t really see anything. Yet, at the same time, I could see perfectly for miles into whatever I was looking at. But there was one thing that stood right in front of me, something/someone which I could see so clearly that I wondered what else was out there.
I looked upward at him, and gasped at what I saw.
“P-Paul?” I was so scared at what I saw, it was horrifying. Paul smiled, bright red blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
“Yes love?” I screamed at his face and how it moved when he talked. There were large scars across his face, bleeding excessively. His eyes were wide, red where the eyelid was torn off, and were crying tears of black liquid and red blood, but his lips were untouched. They were full and lovely like they have always been which put them out of place by far. He didn’t look like Paul, but I knew it was him.
“What happened to y-your face?” I gasped, almost screaming again. I lifted my hands almost to touch his but I pulled my hands away midair, scared by what was going on.
“Oh you know what happened,” He smiled deviously, with bright white teeth stained red and fangs growing out of his mouth, “I wanted you to love me remember? So I took a knife and cut my face all over so I would look handsome to you. And now you love me!” He coughed to his side, spiting blood out into the unknown, before he came back and smile.
“But how could you do this to yourself?!” I cried loudly at him, feeling myself being to cry before I spoke again, “Didn’t it hurt?” Of course it would hurt. It would hurt for any normal person anyway.
“It hurt like hell,” He twitched, almost using a different, scarier voice, but then shaking it off, “But it was all worth it. I killed myself over and over again, for you Holly.” Paul grinned again, putting his hands on my face, feeling the features.
Right as his skin met mine, it burned. I screamed at the pain, trying to move but unable to. I never felt something so painful in my life. I shut my eyes, not wanting to be alive anymore if I would feel that pain for any longer.
“Holly? Holly!” His voice took over my thoughts, and the pain on my face stopped abruptly, disappearing at the sound of his voice. I shook my head, feeling his hands were gone, and opened my eyes at what was there.
The last lamp in the room was turned on, which fed the place a soft amount of light, not too bright for my adjusting eyes. I remembered suddenly where I was at that moment, as I looked upon his terrified face. I was in Paul's destroyed room, on his bed, under his one blanket, and my head on his one pillow.
I gasped for air, my heart beating in my ears. I think I feel asleep out there, on his couch, and he brought me in here, which was nice of him and all. I don't think I had even been so scared in my life until that moment.
"Are you o-ok?" His voice was trying to be calm but pretty scared, "You were screaming in your sleep." I rubbed my eyes and sat up, thinking about the dream. It was all about how he was killing himself for me, and I'm thinking that might be true.
I mean he was the living dead. He had no reason to go on anymore, he was losing all will to live. It was causing him to just wither away. I didn't know what to think of it, I felt bad for him.
"Was I talking in my sleep?" I asked, not answering his question because I wasn't really sure what to think of it.
"Not really. Your scream-ing woke me up and when, and when I came in here you were shaking, and...and screaming and crying. I-it scared me Holly." He half smiled at me, hoping I know how much he cares for me, and I do. I do.
"Thanks," I didn't know what else to say to him. I mean I was in his bed because he rather sleep on a couch for me. His body was thin because he needed me to live, and he wanted to see if I was ok.
He loves me more then he loves being alive, which is sad but kind of touching, in a creepy kind of way, I guess.
It was awkwardly silent between us for a few moments. I didn't really know what to say, I was so startled by all of this. I just looked at his face, the way the light from the lamp hit it and cause half his face to be bright while the other was covered in shadow. I can't really explain but it was something I liked, even with his destroyed face.
"So, you're ooook?" He asked again. I shrugged, I wasn't really. I was terrified, worried, and confused about everything.
"N-no," I stared tearing up and crying again, have tears roll down my eyes. My lip began to quiver, as I felt like sobbing. I did that a lot, I mean my life crumbled around me and it left me in his cold bed. I sniffled.
"You're crying," Pointing out the obvious again, with those same words as before, but I didn't mind that much. Maybe I needed to hear it from him to know it.
Without thinking, as I do a lot, I put my arms around him and hugged him close, putting my head on his shoulder. I needed the comfort from him.
It's funny. When Paul is trying to comfort me, I feel much more happy and better and comforted you know? Much the opposite of Ringo, something wasn't the same between the two. I had no real feeling for Richie but with Paul... I wasn't really sure how I feel about him. It doesn't matter how I feel, I'm leaving this place anyway.
He was surprised by this, not reacting for a moment. Maybe he wondered why I was doing this to him. I wasn't even sure, comfort right? Paul reacted finally, slowly slipping his arms around me and stroking my hair, dragging his boney fingers through each strain carefully.
"Oh, it's alright," Paul whispered into my ear, his cold, he was a cold person I realized, breath brushed against my hair. He had gained much more confidence with this hug, I could hear it in his no longer shaking voice. I think he gained confidence because I told him I would stay for one night, which was more then he could ever ask him.
I turned my head, looking at his neck, realizing he was now wearing a black shirt unlike the turtle neck before, and noticing something about it. I lifted my head up, avoiding the thought of how close our faces were, and taking my hand from around him, touching the side of his neck.
He yelped, slightly, causing him to loosen his arms and move backwards slightly, but not too much. I left my hand there, waiting for his reaction. It caused him more and more pain as I continued to not move. I kept my face blank, watching him like a test subject almost, even with the lines of water down my face.
Paul eventually forced himself away, slipping his thin arms back and standing up, getting his neck away from my hand. I looked up word at him, waiting to know what was wrong with him.
"Why did you do that?" He rubbed his neck lightly, like I was scratching at it or something, but I wasn't. I just touched it, and it caused him extreme pain.
I didn't answer, "What's with the bruise on your neck?" It was a bruise, a purple and black bruise with a scar by it. And there was more. I could see how his arms were bruised, and slightly scared. I wondered, strangely, what his chest must of looked like.
"It's nothing," He lied badly, right though his teeth. I waited for his pants to start on fire, but they didn't, sadly enough. I slide out from under the blanket and stood in front of him. I took one step closer to him, hoping he wouldn't take a step backwards because of it.
I brought my hands to the edge of his shirt, being the creeper that I am, and lifted it, forcing him to reveal was he was hiding, and forcing him to take off the shirt.
I cried out at what I saw, quickly covering my mouth and stopping my cry. It was a terrible sight to see, almost as bad as my dream, except the fact that this was real and I wouldn't be able to wake up in the morning.
He did nothing to cover it up, because he knew there was nothing he could do anyway. I would find out about this, sometime, and I did.
His ribs stuck out of his skin, like he hadn't eaten in weeks or something. It was something expected with all the thinness he's grown but still. He was fucking anorexic and it was all because of me.
But, oh yes, it gets much, much worse.
I didn't cry out because his chest was outlined by his bones, oh no, but the thing you see first. The huge gash that stretched across his chest from his shoulder, right through his heart, and to one side of his waist. It was crusted over with weeks old blood dried out and the whole think was purple, having smaller scars and scraps reach out across the rest of his upper body.
No wonder he was covering his skin before. It was a great representation on what he looked like on the inside, destroyed and scarred.
"Wha..." That was all I could say through my hands, being so surprised by all of this. What could I say? All I wanted to know was why was his thin, pale chest cut in half by a huge scar.
He understood, "I fell," he paused with his shaky voice again, "I fell and cut my self. And it won't heal, no matter what I think I could do." I really wasn't sure if he was being metaphorical or if he actually fell from somewhere and scrapped himself up badly.
It didn't matter, he was still torn.
I took my hand from my mouth and brought it up to the gash. I took the tip of my fingers and brushed it across, moving down the scar. He sucked in air, to hold in the pain I'm sure it caused him, and continued to stand still. I stopped my hand over his heart, and spread my hand out across his skin.
I could feel the quiet, weak heartbeat on the other side. There was something about it, different for the rest of the new Paul. That beat was the little bit of hope that kept him going every day. Very poetic really.
I looked up at his face, seeing the mark of pain as he held it in. I quickly pulled my hand away from him, realizing what I was doing and causing. He let out the breath, as the pain disappeared from his face. I felt bad for him, he was going though so much pain.
"I'm sorry. This is all my fault," I told him, looking right into his eyes. He shook his head at me, disagreeing completely with what I was trying to do.
"Th-this is not your fault." He pointed at his gash that dominated his chest, "It's mine, believe me ok?" His eyes pleaded again, as they did a lot. Even when he spoke, his eyes said more then his voice. I nodded, but still wanted to do something to help him.
I came up with something quickly, "Stay here," I told him, going around him, stepping over all the materials thrown out around his room, and pushing though the door. I ran over to the bathroom, where the door was already open, and went up to the mirror just above the sink. After opening it, I looked through all of what the three who lived there hid in the cabinet. I found some cloth bandages and some sort of antibiotic cream, and pulled it out of the thing, before closing everything back up and rushing back to his room.
"This might hurt some, so just be prepared," I spoke as I came back. The only movement he had done was turning around to face me. I threw the bandages on the end of the mattress and squeezed some cream on my finger.
"What do you mea- UHHHH." He put his hand over his mouth quickly, stopping the painful groan as I began to spread the cream across the gash. He painfully waited for me to spread it all over a thin layer across the major portion of the soon to be huge ass scar, kind of like what I have.
Paul grunted a few more times, holding in the pain again, before I finally finished with the antibiotic shit, and put the cap back on the tube. I wiped the excess on my jeans, before switching for the cloth.
He let out a breath for the moment the pain dissipated again., and dropped his hand. I couldn't help but smile. I didn't like to see him in pain, and to see him so happy just because he isn't in pain is somewhat funny, I guess.
"Lift your arms," I told him firmly, losing the smile. He did, quickly. I began at the bottom and wrapped the bandage around his chest. I had to basically hug him at some parts to get the roll all the way around him, it was quite awkward, though I have hugged him before.
I ran out of the stuff right as I got under his armpits and managed to get it to stay by tucking it in. I took a step back, and looked.
I mean I could still see the edge of the gash on his shoulder but I covered most of it. I think I did a good job, and I did something good for someone else for once.
"You f-forgot something," I tilted my head at him, wondering what he was talking about. Was there another gash that I missed, or something?
"What?"
It took him a minute to respond, like he was thinking. He simply answered with, "This." I expected to see another scar but I was wrong to think that.
For he put his hands on my face and quickly brought ours together, having our foreheads touch, our noses slip past each others, and his lips touched mine.
I can't even tell you how surprised I was at this. He was so scared and almost shy but he managed to gather up his strength to kiss me. I might have been shocked because of this surprise kiss but I melted at it.
It was amazing, absolutely amazing. Even though his lips were cracked and dry, and seemingly dead like the rest of him, it was still wonderful. The way our lips fit together perfectly, I had forgotten about that. It was nothing like Ringo's, his were bland and boring but Paul's.
His had that something that the latter lacked. It was something around that feeling that you were meant to be, that this person has loved you their whole life and they would do anything just to be with you for one more minutes.
The butterflies in my stomach calmed down, the dryness in my throat left me, my heart beat rose dramatically, I could feel his breath from his nostrils on me. I brought my arms around his neck, letting my fingers curl into his faded black hair. It was still so soft, one of the few things that didn't change when he lost me.
His hands left my face, once he knew that I was enjoying this kiss, and put his hands on my waist, pulling my body closer to his.
Time seemed to stop, and it was just us left, nothing else mattered. The world was good again, just for the moment or two that our lips were together.
But then I realized that this wasn't right, no matter how good it felt. I was supposed to leave the next day and never come back. I wasn't even supposed to be there! I need to learn to move on from him and kissing isn't the best way to do that.
So I slipped my hands from his curls, and shoved him away, pushing my hands against his chest and ripping our perfect fitting lips apart.
And when I looked into his eyes for just a moment, I saw that hazel color again. He was so happy for the first time in months that he was already feeling better about himself. But when he blinked and realized I didn't want this, the color was lost in time, like it was never there.
He scratched his head and looked down at his feet. He was so embarrassed for his actions, it's made me feel bad for him again. The poor boy just wanted one kiss, right?
"I'm, um, sorry. I don't know what c-came over me," Paul lied. Even though he was sincere, he wasn't sorry. Deep in my subconscious, I wasn't sorry either. But I couldn't let that keep me from going home tomorrow.
"i'll go now," He took his shirt off the floor, and slipped it back on. He was about to go out of the room but I felt so bad for him, and I needed the comfort, then I let my stupidity talk for me. I didn't think about tomorrow, I should have been thinking about my future, not living in the moment like I tend to do.
I grabbed his arm when he was about to go through the doorway and stopped him, getting Paul to turn back and look at me with those pleading eyes again.
"Why don't you stay, with me? I was cold earlier and could use someone to lay with maybe." And for the first time in a long time, he smiled.