08 - In the End - Claudette
Glossy tears shimmered in the night as they slipped down his pail wind burned cheeks and slid silently off of his chin like skiers on a skee slope. His hair billowed out around his face in a cloud of soft golden strands, wrapping and tangling infront of his bloodshot eyes. His hands trembled with edginess and shock as he stumbled across the dry brown grass under his feet.
This was what it all came down to in the end.
The whispers in the hushed movie theaters or in closets in childish games of hide-and-seek. The long walks around the mill-pond hidden in their own niche in the woods as the sun decended on the horizon. Tender moments when one or the other's life was enough to bring them to frustrated tears or a tumble down the hill in his backyard managed to injure them in one way or another. His head ached with the memories that flashed infront of him.
This was what it all came down to in the end.
He wiped the blood that stained his stinging palms on to the sides of his jeans, the stickiness clinging to his fingers in a sickening mess. He staggered ahead in his half-sure way as he moved agonizingly slowly towards...towards where? Where could he go now that this had all happened? Surely not home. Never home.
This was what it all came down to in the end.
It had not been his fault. He was an innocent man, any court judge could tell them that if he'd been there to witness the events. But nobody was there. He was stuck in deep sludge. His red rimmed eyes turned up to look at the moon, laughing at him overhead. Damn the moon. Dammit, it was the reason he was in the terrible, terrible situation. She, she was the one that had wanted to go camping out in that clearing in the woods with her stupid little telescope. Because of the damned moon.
This was what it all came down to in the end.
"Come with me, we'll have loads of fun." No. No fun tonight. His face turned towards the ground, eyeing his fingernails, the blood drying under them already. Those weren't his hands. They hadn't been. Something else had done it, something else had had him under control. Something out there. He began to slow his pace as he trudged deeper into the woods.
This was what it all came down to in the end.
"Come on Zac, a seance would be fun! Contacting dead spirits and everything? It will be awesome!" Sure, thats what she had thought. If she had known then that the consequence of their fun would be her life, she may have thought differently. "You know Zacko, the dead can talk through you if they want to." Talk she had said. She hadn't said anything about acting through you. Taking over your body.
This was what it all came down to in the end.
"My brother hated me. He thought I was the reason he was going to die. Let's contact him and apologize." No, no, no, no. The biggest mistake of their lives. He crumpled to the leaf covered ground, cradling his head in his hands. He was there. He could still feel him watching him from some secluded area in his mind. Maybe he was going crazy. No not maybe, hopefully...
This was what it all came down to in the end.
He raised a hand infront of his face. The blood covered palm, the dirt staining his once smooth, milky, skin. He watched it as it moved towards his pocket, reaching in and digging through the contents. This time, her brother wouldn't beat him to it. Fear lay heavy in the pit of his stomach, but somewhere else inside, he was yelling with anticipation. He pulled the switchblade out of his jeans and watched it shimmer under the cold glare of the moon.
This was what it all came down to in the end.
He twirled it, watching the light bouncing off of the shiny metal and the red gleaming blood that ran in rivulets down the sides. He pricked his finger. A small droplet of his own blood formed and ran down to join hers. Smiling faintly, he brought the knife up, and pressed it to his throat.
This was what it all came down to in the end.
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