Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

The Stench of Concrete and Gasoline

Short story By: xXCapriSunXx

About losing someone that I love. To whom who killed him, I have no words of hate. I just wish he was still alive.

Submitted:Feb 6, 2011    Reads: 35    Comments: 3    Likes: 1   

At Seventeen years old, he paces back and forth at home. He just arrived here after school. Staring blankly at the pale blue walls, he thinks "what did I do wrong?" Then he repeats it aloud to himself, over and over again. Until it's a chant; until the words lose their meaning… Until he is screaming the words, meaningless as they are. His one love broke up with him today.
Now he pounds his fists against the wall, he tugs at his clothing. But this does not satisfy him. He falls down to his fragile knees, hot tears streaming down his face. His tears blind him and he surrenders, letting his sobbing grow louder. Then an idea reaches into his mind- an idea that he had felt many times before. He pulls up his sleeves to adore the white scars on his arm. Then he runs up to his room to find his razorblade. Soon, the soothing feeling of blood trickling down his skin reassures him that he is alive, yet he frowns. This did not give him the usual relief as it should. This did not satisfy him.
He panics. How could he have lost her? The only one- the only thing- he loved. She was his sunshine- the one who could make him feel better no matter what. She saved him from himself. And now she's gone he thought to himself. She's not coming back. He felt all the air drain out of his lungs. And then back in. The room fell silent, except for the clock in the hall.
His sister would be home soon.
His mom would too.
Normally, he would clean up his arm and hide the cut with a long sleeve shirt. If this had been any other day, he would dry his eyes and put on a fake smile.
But not today, today was different. Today he had lost the one thing that meant something to him in this world. The one thing that would ever comfort him. This life wasn't even worth living anymore, at least that's what he thought. Maybe you can predict what happened next.
I wish I could have been there. I wish I could have been the one to save him; to say "don't do it, it'll be okay. Everything will work out. I'm here for you!"I wish I would have taken his hand in mine and given him a smile. I wish I was there to take away his car keys- to open the garage door… Anything.
But the fact of the matter is- I wasn't.
So instead, he looped his car keys around his finger and sent out to the garage. He did not open the garage door, but rather hopped in to the driver's seat in his car. He turned it on and rolled down all the windows. He let the gasoline fill the entire room- he let it fill his lungs, too. He coughed up blood, he was suffocating. But he did not stop. Instead, he smiled. He was going to leave this world soon. He thought of his family and his friends, wondering what would happen once they found him.
His mother would bring his sister home from school and stop home before taking her to soccer practice. She would say "I'm home!" But there would be no one to respond to her. She would search the house, not finding her son. She figures he was at a friend's house, so she checks the garage to see if his car is gone. It's not. But all the windows are rolled down. Curious, she strides into the cold room. She coughs, what's that smell? She has no idea what she is about to see. Gazing into the car, a wave of horror would ripple through her entire body. There is her son- drenched in blood… She lets out a terrified scream.
He smiled as he thought of this. At least somebody cares. Oh, if only he knew how much I cared. I love him immensely, unconditionally, and blindly.
He inhales deeper and deeper, until chemicals swell inside his lungs. His muscles relax…
Until he is dead.
I never knew my Uncle because-as you now know- suicide had taken him away from this world before I had been born. I don't even know his name because my relatives hate talking about his death. But he will always have a piece of my heart in his grave. I will always be his niece, even when death or perhaps even suicide takes my life away as well.
~I love you, Uncle :) I hope you are happy, wherever you are now.~


| Email this story Email this Short story | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.