What Sarah Said..

There was something different in his eyes that night. Somethig... wrong. Like the luminosity in them losing the battle. He would stay there, static. Frozen. I would touch him, cry for him, yell at him. But nothing. He wouldn't answer. Not now, never again.

I wondered why he was so indiferent. It hurt, deeper than anything, worse than a dagger stabbed on my ribbs. Bleeding out the pain of his silence.

I passed my fingers through his hair, catching the very scent of its smell. I drew senseless patterns all along his face, feeling every single centimeter of his skin. I embraced him around his neck, kissing him from chin to the forehead. I even took his beautiful face with my hands and hold it next to my chest, whispering at his ear the silly love songs he used to sing to me.

But nothing.

I stood there. In silence, watching him. He was so quiet... but not calmed. He was thoughtful, lips pressed, eyes cold on the walls. Then I had an idea. I pressed my hands against the wound on my torax and used the blood to write. On the blank wall, anything, any kind of message he could read. My name next to his. Love songs. Threatens. Poetry. Suicide notes.

But he wouldn't look up. He was just there, sitting next to a bed, his hands holding someone else's hands.

I got it. He was not there for me. He was there for that girl laying on that bed. I couldn't see the face covered with the sheets stained of red on some parts. He looked like hell, tired, sad, hopeless. That's when I figured out why his eyes were so gray to me. He was actually and truly in love with this person, a girl who was dying. Or already dead.

I started crying, not for him to listen to me, but for someone to kill me. I felt this enormous pain running all through my body. From the very smallest hair on my head, to the last of my toes. It was burning from the inside-out, like acid. I felt how every one of my bones started to break. I could hear the cracks everywhere. I threw myself to the floor, waiting to die. At least I would have liked to kiss him goodbye. And suddenly, it was over.

I stood up, strenght coming back to me. I searched for him, but he was over the girl on the bed, crying. She was gone. But I was still here, for him. I reached to touch his shoulder, but he was shaking on top of the girl.

The movement made the sheets fall from the top of her head, letting some hair show. It was brown, with some reddish sparkles on it. It was so familiar.

He kissed her forehead and stood up. I tried to talk to him, to make him look at me. Bu he just walked out the door, closed it behind him.

I fell on my knees to th floor. On the dark, wryly, everything seemed clearer now. He loved me, but I had been hurt to death.