(Author’s note: I’ve had this story stuck in my head for about four months. I tried to write it before but unfortunately, it was deleted. This story is completely fictional and never happened to me, or anybody that I know.) Please comment. I'd love to get some feedback from you guys. Thanks.
Red Arms and Red Lips
People always tell me “Jason, it’s bad to cut yourself! It’s dangerous.” And they’re right, it is dangerous. But to me, it’s worth it. Unlike most other people who cut, I don’t do it out of depression, but because when I do, it gives me relief unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Unfortunately, my mother had taken my razor, so I was a bit angry when I went to school on Tuesday.
I was walking down the hall before first period Algebra when my friend Ian came over to me from his locker.
“Hey, man. What class do you have first?” he asked. I rolled my eyes.
“Moron, we have the same first period. You should know,” I told him.
“Someone’s angry,” he replied. I groaned softly.
“Whatever. My mom took my razor on Saturday. It’s been a rough few days.”
“Ouch… Well I think I know someone who can help you out.” He pointed down the hall to the freshman lockers. I tracked the path of his finger and saw it was aiming at a girl. She had her head in her locker so I couldn’t see her face.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Her name’s Amy. She’s in my Spanish class. I’ve said a few words to her.”
“So how do you know she cuts?” I asked, suspicious.
“Dude, I’ve seen her arms. She’s got a web of scars. It’s crazy. She’s also got a few on her legs. She’s even more into it than you are.”
I looked at her for a few more seconds before sighing. I walked down the hall towards her locker. “Hey,” I said to her. She pulled her head out of the locker and raised her eyebrow, confused because she didn’t know me. As she was doing this, I quickly gave her a once-over, and she did the same. I probably didn’t look too impressive with my ratty jeans, two year-old sneakers short dirty-blond hair and plain black hoodie, but she was absolutely GORGEOUS. She was five feet tall at the most, a contrast to my 6’ 1” and weighed no more than a hundred pounds. Her auburn hair cascaded down her head past her shoulders, her eyes were the most green I’d ever seen, and her skin was the color of freshly fallen snow. She had jean shorts on, even though it was the middle of November, revealing her smooth, pale legs, and her small frame looked extremely cute tucked into her black sweatshirt.
“Did you want something?” she asked. My legs just about melted. Her voice surpassed that of an angel’s. My heart raced and for a moment, I forgot what I had come for.
“Uhh.. Yeah. My friend Ian said you could help me with something.”
“And what would that be?” I showed her my arm, entangled with scars. She gazed for a few seconds, then wordlessly ducked inside her locker and slipped something into my hand. “Hope that was what you needed.” With that, she walked away, heading for class. I stared after her, my legs trembling slightly.
A hand came up and grabbed my shoulder. “She’s cute, huh?” Ian said.
“That may have been the understatement of the decade.” I told him. At that moment, the bell rung, so we walked down the stairs to Algebra. Once there, I looked at what she gave me.
It was a small razor blade, no more than two inches long and one inch tall. The grip was carefully painted pink, and just above the blade, there was a small red heart sticker. I smiled to myself and slipped it into my pocket.
After school, I hung out in front of the building for a few minutes, looking around. Then I saw her come through the door, so I walked up to her as casually as I could. I started to greet her when I saw her shirt. She had removed her black sweatshirt, exposing a tank top with a picture of Kurt Cobain, singer and guitarist of Nirvana, my favorite band.
“Amy. I love your shirt. You have no idea.”
She looked down at it and grinned. “You like Nirvana?” she asked me.
“Of course! They’re my favorite. Oh I don’t think I introduced myself, did I? I’m Jason Kinney,” I told her.
“Nice to meet you. As you already know, my name is Amy. My last name is Vedder.” She smiled at me.
“You mean like Eddie Vedder from Pearl Jam?”
“Yup. Just like that. It’s the best last name ever.”
“I think I’d agree with you on that. Hey are you busy? Want to hang out, maybe listen to some Nirvana or Alice in Chains or something?” I asked, hoping for the love of God she’d say yes.
She thought to herself for a moment. “Sure. I don’t have to go home because…” Her voice trailed off. “Let’s go,” she said. I nodded casually, but in my head, I was ecstatic. I led the way from the school to my house.
“I like your house,” Amy said, once we got there.
“Thanks. Would you like a tour?” I asked.
“Sure.” So I led her through the house, showing her everything. My mother's room, my room, the kitchen, den, living room, guest room, so on and so forth. I asked her if she wanted anything to eat or drink.
“Root beer, if you have it.” I went and got bottles for her and myself. “Thank you,” she said. Every time she spoke, it still made me want to melt. Her voice was so melodic and elegant…
I got up and put on Bleach by Nirvana, my favorite album. The opening chords of Blew started up and we laid down on my bed. I pulled the razor she gave me from my pocket.
“I never thanked you for this,” I told her.
“Well you did look like you needed one. But promise me you’ll take care of it. That one’s my favorite.” I, somewhat nervously, put my arm around her waist and told her I would. She moved in even closer and rested her head on my chest. I was on Cloud Nine, dude. My roof could have caved in and I would have died happy.
We listened to the entire album like that, and she, (much to my disappointment,) got up to see what other CDs I had. She scanned the rows of them on my shelf, looking for one she wanted to listen to. Eventually she decided on Vitalogy from Pearl Jam. She started it up and came back to my bed, and got in the exact same position she was in before she got up. I silently thanked God for being so good to me.
After a while, I had an itch on my arm I knew only one thing could scratch. So I pulled out the razor Amy gave me and help it up to her.
“Interested?” I asked. She hesitated, but still nodded in reply. We sat up and kept our backs against the wall. I held my left arm out and made two small horizontal cuts across my forearm. Pain and bliss simultaneously exploded up my arm and I sighed with the greatest relief. Amy had taken out her own blade and cut her leg, up near her thigh. I was still enjoying that feeling I got when I saw something unexpected.
She was crying. Tears were flowing down her face and onto her leg, mixing with the blood. I realized then that she wasn’t like me. She didn’t do it for pleasure. She was depressed.
Uneasy, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and asked her what was the matter. When she looked back up at me, my heart broke. Her gorgeous green eyes were marred by tears, and the amount of sadness in them could have spawned a black hole. She began sobbing and wrapped both her arms around my waist, crying into my chest. I was about to hold her head with my left hand, but it was still bleeding. So I used my right hand instead. At this point she was lying on her stomach, and her leg was bleeding all over my sheets. But that didn’t matter. Honestly, the only thing that mattered in the world was Amy. She cried until the album was finished, and I just held her there, stroking her beautiful hair behind ears and kissing the top of her head.
Eventually, she stopped altogether and sat up. I asked her if she wanted to talk about it, and, sniffling, she shook her head.
“Okay, I guess I can’t make you… But if you ever feel like it, I want you to know you can come to me, okay?” She looked me in the eye and nodded. She moved her head towards mine and gently, passionately kissed my lips. Her lips were wet and salty from the tears, but they were softer than silk.
I was wrong about dying happy with her head on my chest. I could die happy locked in that position for the rest of time. But all good things come to an end, and eventually, her lips broke away from mine. She blushed and looked down. I tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t. So I just sat there, drinking my root beer, which was now warm.
“Umm… So what’s your family like?” she nervously asked me.
“My dad died when I was four, and I don’t have any siblings. My mom rarely comes home during the week, but still manages to act like a tyrant on the weekend.”
“Why doesn’t she come home during the week?” Amy asked.
“She never tells me, but I know what she’s doing. She’s kind of a tramp.” As soon as I finished the sentence, Amy flinched. “What’s wrong?” I asked her.
She mumbled something under her breath. I asked her to repeat it. “That’s what my dad calls me,” she said after a few seconds of silence.
I just sat there in shock for about thirty seconds. Soon, anger replaced my shock.
“What?! How dare he call you that?!” I was more infuriated than I’d ever been, even more than when my mom took my razor. “What the hell’s his problem?” Amy sat there in silenced, her head hung between her pale legs.
“My mother left him a few years ago, and didn’t take me with her. I haven’t heard from her since, but I don’t care about that part. She wasn’t very nice anyway. What I do care about is the fact that she left me with a stupid, putrid, alcoholic man who barely feeds me.”
Her voice, usually gorgeous and melodic, was full of spite and hate. Instead of making my heart melt, it made my spine shiver.
“Hey.. If you don’t want to go back there, you can sleep here. I have a spare room, and my mom’s not going to be here.” It might have been a hasty offer, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want her going home to someone like that.
She sat still, thinking, before nodding her head. “Thank you,” she whispered. Instead of answering, I wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tight.
After a while I got up to make us some food, as it was 5:00 at this point. So I went downstairs to the kitchen and made spaghetti and garlic bread.
When I came back to my room, Amy was listening to Something in the Way by Nirvana, one of my favorite songs. I handed her a plate and she took it gratefully.
“You made this?” she asked. I nodded.
“I like to cook.”
“I should really learn how to…” she said.
“I could teach you if you want,” I said. She agreed, and we started eating.
After that, we started to talk. We talked about pretty much everything there was to talk about. School, music, friends, movies, and such. I found out her birthday was on Valentine’s Day, her favorite movie was Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, she had only a few friends, and her favorite food was steak. We had so much in common it was unbelievable. She also played a few video games, but not many. We played Mario Party 3 on my Nintendo 64, because that was the only game I had that she wanted to play. Soon, it was 11:30.
“Hey do you want to take a shower now, or in the morning? I can wake you up if you want to do it then,” I said. She agreed, but I went to take a shower. When I came back into my room, she was asleep on my bed. I smiled and watched her for a few minutes. Then I picked her up, careful not to wake her, and carried her downstairs to the guest room, I tucked her in and said good night softly. I went back upstairs to my room, set my alarm, and quickly fell asleep.
Someone shook me gently and I woke up. “Jason.” My heart melted, so I knew it was Amy even before I opened my eyes. But when I did, I was greeted by the most beautiful eyes the world had ever seen. She quickly kissed my lips. “I love you.” And with that she stood up and walked out of my room. Before I could respond, I fell asleep again.
My alarm woke me up at 6:30. It took me a few moments to remember the events of the day before. Oh my God, I thought, she said she loves me. I smiled, happier than I’d ever been and got out of bed. I went down to the guest room where Amy was sleeping. I opened the door quietly, and saw her there, breathing quietly. I shook her gently.
“Amy,” I said softly. Her eyes opened a bit and I kissed her lips. “I love you, too.” I told her. She smiled and threw her arms around my neck. We kissed again and she got out of bed, no longer wearing her shirt or shorts. I blushed a little, but she just looked at me with an impish smile. She picked up her clothes and walked out of the room to take a shower. While she did that, I made us bacon and toast for breakfast.
She came into the kitchen in my mom’s bathrobe, drying her beautiful hair with a towel. She thanked me again for letting her stay there.
“No problem,” I told her. “Seriously. It isn’t. You can stay here as long as you want to. Even if my mom says you can’t, I won’t care. I’ll sneak you in if I have to.” She smiled at me.
It was only 7:15, and school didn’t start until nine, so we had some time to kill. So we went to my room, put on Jar of Flies, my favorite Alice in Chains album, on full volume and talked some more. Eventually, though we stopped talking, and spent the entire last hour making out.
Then we went to school, which sucked, because we didn’t have any classes or lunch together. On the way there, we held hands and talked about us.
“It’s hard to believe we just met yesterday,” she said. I nodded in agreement.
“I know what you mean. But honestly, God this is going to sound cheesy as hell, I couldn’t imagine life without you anymore.” I was rewarded with a smile and a hug.
“Hey, I’m wearing the same clothes I was yesterday. Do you think we could stop by my house really quick after school and grab some of my things?” she asked.
I was hesitant, because her dad might be there. Apparently she knew what I was thinking, because she added, “My dad will probably be drunk and passed out by then. We’ll be really quiet.” I reluctantly agreed, but I told her that if he makes me angry by insulting or harming her, I would smash his face in with a hammer. She smiled and nodded.
We arrived at the school and gave each other one last hug before we went to class. During Algebra, I told Ian about what happened.
“No way. You have to be making this up,” he said.
“I swear I’m not. Why would I lie?” I asked.
“Damn… Well mind if I ask her about it during Spanish?”
“Yes. How freaking lame will it make me seem if she knows that the first thing I did was tell you?” I asked.
He scratched his brown hair and pushed up his glasses. “I guess you’re right.”
School went unbelievably slow. All I wanted was for it to be over so I could see Amy again. I had two quizzes, and I, without a doubt, failed them both. I did not care. In the least.
But finally, school ended, so I stood in front of the building again, waiting for her. She came out the front door, looking as gorgeous as when I first saw her, and she ran up to me and gave me a hug.
“School sucked,” she said. “It was so slow.” I smiled.
“I know exactly what you mean,” I told her.
“Okay, can we go get my things?” she asked. I nodded and she led me to her house.
It was kind of small compared to mine, and a little run-down. Amy took out her keys and quietly opened the door. To the left there was a small den-like area where her father was asleep, sixteen cans of beer, (all empty,) were strewn about the room. There were several antique weapons hung on the walls for some reason. A few swords, an axe, a mace, and a flail.
"My dad collects those.. I've never asked why," she whispered.
We quietly moved into her room where she started to grab some clothes, her cell phone charger, and a few other things. When she was grabbing socks out of her drawer, she accidentally bumped it, and her lamp fell off the top and crashed to the floor. She froze, eyes wide open in terror. A few seconds later, her father came into the room.
He was fat, I assume from all the drinking, and a few inches taller than me. Bald, but had a beard. He looked like every stereotypical alcoholic American who ever lived. He saw his daughter and he got immediately angry. “You stupid tramp! You didn’t come home yesterday! What were you doing, having sex with this kid? I expected as much. You’re disgusting.” In those few sentences, I grew to despise this man more than any human being who had ever lived. Terrorists were saints compared to him. I clenched my fists.
The last straw came when he raised his fist and started walking into the room. I moved in front of him and held out my arm to the side to obstruct his path.
“You REALLY don’t want to do that,” I told him. He tried to move forward again and I punched him as hard as I could in the stomach. He doubled over and I hit him in the eye, which planted him on his back. I walked up next to his head and stomped on his nose, shattering it and making blood fly everywhere. He cried out in pain, and I bent over him to tell him off again. He threw his arm up. It was a wild shot, but still managed to hit me square in the eye. I passed out.
“… stupid whore! I’ll teach you to disrespect me like that!”
I came to and looked around. Amy was on the floor, her mouth open. Her father was on top of her, his hands gripped tightly around her throat. Her skin was somehow whiter than it normally was.
“No! You son of a bitch, get off of her!” I screamed at him. I ran up and kicked him in the temple as hard as I could. He passed out.
“Amy! Amy!” I yelled, trying to get a reaction out of her. I checked her pulse. She had none. Her mouth was still open. I was CPR certified, but I didn’t know if it would work or not. I tried anyway. I pressed down on her chest three times, and then blew into her mouth. I kept repeating this, but it wasn’t working.
Sobbing, I hugged the body of the girl I loved and called her name over and over at the top of my lungs until I nearly blew my voice out. I laid her down gently and stared at her corpse, still sobbing uncontrollably. I knew then what I was going to do. I got out my cell phone and roughly shook Amy’s father until he was awake. I started recording a video.
“Did you kill your daughter, you son of a bitch?!” I screamed at him.
“Stupid little slut disrespected me. So I choked her.” I set down the phone, while it was still recording, and punched him in the eye again. I stomped on his lips, knocking out several of his teeth. He screamed.
“SHUT THE HELL UP!” I was screaming like a lunatic now. “YOU KILLED THE GIRL I LOVED, YOU BASTARD!” I started to cry again. I picked up the phone again, went into the hallway and grabbed the mace. I placed the phone on the dresser, aiming it so it could see what I was about to do. I kicked his head to the floor, lifted the mace, and swung down as hard as I could. It made a sickening sound as it caved in his skull, killing the bastard. I looked at the phone and said, “Hope you enjoyed the show. Listen. Whoever finds us, please bury Amy and I in the same grave. I need that to happen. If you have any decency in your soul, you will make that happen.” And with that, I stopped recording. I found a sticky note, placed it on top of the phone, and wrote “Please watch first video.”
I walked calmly into the hallway and took one of the swords off the wall, the one that seemed the sharpest. I went back into Amy’s room and sat next to her, stroking her face. I closed her eyelids and forced her mouth shut. After that, I removed our shirts, gazing lovingly at her beautiful petite body. I kissed her stomach a few times before righting myself. I knew it was time. I picked her body up so it was kneeling, and placed my torso against hers. I wrapped her arms around my neck so she wouldn’t fall down. Calmly, I picked up the sword, aimed it, and stabbed it through our hearts.
Immense pain exploded throughout my body. There was no bliss this time. Just the physical pain of steel through muscle, and the emotional pain of two lovers forced apart too early. Blood spurted from my mouth, covering my lips in red. I fell forward, forcing more of the sword through my body. Soon Amy and I were lying directly on top of it, the entire length of the blade buried deep in our bodies. I shuddered, and cried my last few tears upon the gorgeous white flesh of the girl I loved.
I kissed her pale lips with my blood covered ones, and moaned. My last breath escaped me, and then we lay there, lips locked together for the rest of time.
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