It's been a weird week.
It's been a weird semester.
Don't read too far into this one.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them. There’s a sick glory that accompanies that.
“Sit down,” I whisper. It comes out as a growl.
“Put the gun down,” she says, more as a plea than a statement.
“Shut up!" I shout, put the barrel to her temple.
“Please don’t do this,” she chokes out, her entire face covered in tears.
“Shut up,” I repeat. She’s pushing it. That’s all she does. Push.
“Please,” she babbles, “You don’t have to do this. Please, I don't tell anyone.”
“Shut up,” I whisper again. It comes out as a plea. A pathetic plea, and I’m crying, and sinking to my knees. “Shut up can’t you shut up why are you doing this?” I ask.
She stares at me. “Please,” she whispers, has enough courage to touch my cheeks, “You’re scaring me.”
I twitch out of her grasp.
explosion
“You think I’m not scared? You think I’m used to thinking of you like this all the time?” I run the barrel across her arm. She shivers. “You think I like thinking about you so often? You think I like being like this? You think I feel sane when I wake up in the morning, wishing I were dead than not being beside you?” The tears have mixed. “You think it’s easy being so...” I trail off. That’s what those points of suspension mean. I am lost in her eyes. I can’t say it.
“You’re scaring me,” is all she says.
“Don’t you see?” I sob, pointing to the empty room with the sten gun, “Don’t you see what I’ve done for you?”
“I didn’t ask you to do any of it,” she whimpers.
It occurs to me she never did.
4 comments:
I read your piece once and to be honest I didn't really get it or enjoy it, but I just read it again and I actually quite like it. It's because of the subject matter, I think, but also the style.
There's a lot of cringing, a lot of tension, I found it difficult to read because it was so... intense -- but that's a good thing. It means you created a universe, an atmosphere (a choking, leaden one, at that) in very few words. I didn't feel sympathy or judgement for any of the characters, it's very journalistic despite the first-person narration, but it works it creating something very obsessive and uncomfortable, like the narrator.... that last sentence doesn't make much sense, but that's sort of how I feel. Bravo!
P.S. A reminder to all, comments are the lubricant of heart rape. If there are no comments, it is dry-rape. Dry-rape hurts a lot, and can be very damaging.
Well put, Charles. I liked this. It puts forth the whole obsessive nature in people in moments of confusion.
Yes, I agree with Charles. In both the comment and the PS. :P
Apart from that, I just...I don't know. For some reason I kept thinking in the beginning of Zachary Quinto's hostage-love-story. But then it really changed and I completely forgot by the end and I only remembered when I looked it over again. So I guess that's a good sign, that it became so much more serious. Although I thought in many ways it was a little cliche. Maybe that's just because I think guns are overused in writing/media. But even the end was a little...predictable I guess?
But I liked the feelings evoked in the middle and the intensity, as Charles said. That whole part was good and well done, bringing up strong visuals. And for some reason I really liked "I run the barrel across her arm". I don't know why, but that stuck out nicely.
LOL Charles.
This definitely feels obsessive and tense. The running of the barrel across her arm is just so sensual and creepy and delicious.
The only thing I don't like is the very ending, starting with "lost in her eyes." I dunno, it feels like suddenly at the end there was one cliche after another.
But I really like "pointing to the empty room." Somehow I felt that the room wasn't empty, but as if it was filled with corpses. It's empty of souls.
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