DucklingOfChrist

(Fuck the Language Warning. I'm not used to writing angst, so please critique so I know how I'm doing! Thank you!) Previously: When he reached for his knife, you kicked it to the other side of the room, the gliding of metal against wood the only sound in the heavy silence. You stood, one foot on his back, the other on his wrist, glaring down at him. His breathing became erratic and his fists clenched and unclenched. "You....bitch." He spat the words at you, but after your heart being crushed in the hands of others, nothing could penetrate the walls you had built around them. You were done believing what others said about you. "Oh, shut it

(WARNING: IF YOU ARE HAVING PROBLEMS WITH SUICIDAL THOUGHTS OR DEPRESSION, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY AND SEEK IMMEDIATE HELP. EVERY HUMAN BEING IS BEAUTIFUL AND DESERVES TO LIVE A HAPPY LIFE! ENJOY LIFE MY PRECIOUS LIL KITTIE-CHANS!!! Includes cutting)                             "Kill me...Please...Just let me die..." you rasped, starting to shake with dry sobs. But this time, you didn't mean it. Your feelings for him still burned bright in the darkness that surrounded you. Seeing him again made you realize - if you were dead, who would think about him? Who would heal with him?    Your once dry, lifeless (e/c) optics flashed, and spi