She lay motionless, undisturbed, not a single care in the world.
She lay alone with him, where she belonged, still and safe, her head rising and falling rhythmically with each breath he took.
She breathed him in, the scent a combination of summer, and the love they had made.
Rolling over, she stared into his empty, ocean eyes until he met her gaze.
Aware something was agitating him, she unsealed her lips to speak.
Before she could regain her voice, he let out an exasperated sigh.
Following an unavoidable, consternate stare from her mesmorizing green eyes,
A voice finally escaped his lips as an almost inaudible whisper.
Adelaide
How might one become saved?
What actions of what severity must be taken in order to deliver a being from constant suffering?
Besides, one can not be saved if they do not wish to be.
But what if rescue is essential?
What if one must be saved, from the uncertainty, the self mutilation, from themselves?
Is it possible to restrain a person from transforming before your eyes?
Nobody wishes to witness an individual they love slip so far away that they become unrecognizable.
And yet, how do you save yourself?
In the midst of the vexation, the unanswered questions, the anguish
How could one allow these changes to slide through their fi
1: Salt for your wounds by jackielfult, literature
Literature
1: Salt for your wounds
Asia slowly raised her head from the tear-stained sheets of paper sprawled on her desk. The ink left hideous grey smudges on her cheeks, staining her pallid face and making her appear even more pitiful than she felt. She raised a hand and wiped the liquid from her eyes. The familiar sound of crashing and a muffled scream echoed downstairs.
Throwing herself from the chair, she thrust herself at the stereo and slammed on the buttons. Shoving a scratched CD into the drive, she turned up the volume and let the music take her away from her fragmented life. The track began with a bloody scream from the vocalist. Guitars and heavy drums slammed her
(Three months previous)
Asia awoke to the sound of Metallica blasting in her brother Jade's room, adjacent to her own. The music's bass made the walls shake and her bedposts quiver. Annoyed and irritable, she looked at the clock on her nightstand table. 6:57, the numbers read. For a moment Asia stared at the glowing clock face. "That couldn't possibly be right," she muttered to herself. Picking up her cell phone on the same table, she flipped it open, and the time was confirmed. Asia was an hour late.
In a rush she hurried out of bed, consequently falling over and entangling her feet in the covers. With a few choice words she cursed the bed
The phone rang on the dresser, vibrating with a loud and heavy buzz. Jade took one look at it and gagged. He knew it was just his clingy ex Alicia calling him, again. He continued in his rummaging though drawers looking for a clean shirt. Leafing through his variety of band tees, he settled on a grey Doors shirt. He slipped it on, and Jim Morrison's rugged face glared back at him from the dresser mirror. Now, for the next task… finding his shoes. Those elusive black converse were never in the right place at the right time.
Digging through the mountain of CDs and dirty clothes on the floor, he heard the phone buzz again over his shoulder. "I
Asia stared at the computer screen in shock, a zombie. Her skin dragged on her face like an old woman's, faded a pale grey accented by the deep blue circles underneath her eyes. She clung to the armrests of the chair as she re-read the e-mail that had been sitting untouched on her screen for the past thirty minutes. She read it over and over, again and again. She still didn't believe it. She couldn't. If she believed it, then it must be true. The words entered and re-entered her head but to her they were only words, and their meaning simply did not register. A worthless combination of letters and punctuation was all she saw on the glowing mon
A laugh and casual conversation, as thoughts
turn. A question asked, the brief hesitation that always follows
the silent awkwardness that arises between, almost too tangible.
The smile fades.
As it should. As it always should.
Forever?
We tell ourselves we will
never
be happy again.
As we should. As we always should.
But how far does it go?
Sooner or later
memories
fade.
And e v e r y t h i n g
We thought that mattered
simply
doesnt.
All standards we held ourselves to, all the
lies we repeated, perfect mantras assuring
ourselves more than anything (though always in vain)
I can never find peace in the
Guitars smashed the ceilings and shook the walls of the grizzly venue. Amplifiers peaking at maximum volume, the music hung onto the heartstrings of all attending. The air was layered thick with smoke and body heat collected and lingered, sweeping over the masses cramped in front of the stage. Lights flashed, the music blared, and the crowd went crazy. No body was motionless in the multitude, heavy with sweaty, mosh-happy teenagers. Headbanging in time, they approached the sound with a cool sort of passion, somehow able to seem blank and apathetic while simultaneously kickboxing and spinning to the sound. The kids in the crowd were mostly fau