FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #1

She told him with a little gesture he had never seen her use before. She told him with those emerald eyes of hers. But as quickly as she looked up, she was back to her work.

The soap matched her eyes, you know. It was green, lime green. Maybe it was coincidence. Perhaps it was fate. He liked to believe that it was magic. He wanted to say that there was reason, and logic that the two objects shared such a glow. He wanted reason to believe; he needed reason to believe.

She set the bottle of soap beside her on a tile. He watched the movement as it transferred from her hand to the floor. He starred at that container, hoping and wishing and dreaming away. He put that soap up on a pedestal, and worshiped it. That vial of cleanser became a beacon of hope, scrubbing away the grime and dirt and germs, but also instilling something inside of him that he needed.

She hadn't been the same, not since the accident. He knew that it was not her fault, that it was a horrid turn of events, and swore to always stand by her. Till death do we part, he thought to himself, as he continued to watch her in one of her conditions. She hadn't been the same, not since the incident, and he hated every single moment of it. He could not stand it. He just wanted her back.

He began to sob, just like the many times previous, and like the many he expected to come. She would not notice. Even after her fit passed, she would still not return to her state of the past. Time-travel was not an option. There was no way back, and she was far past the point of no return. All of the doctors and psychiatrists and neurologists and psychics alike knew it, just like he did. He sat down on the carpeted floor outside of the bathroom, and watched her.

Tonight was not a good night. She was more frantic than usual, more sporadic, and it was more on top of more on top of more. He tried to smile at her, an attempt to relive the past. He imagined her as she once was; curly auburn hair, bright emerald eyes, and a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. She used to be almost pixie-like, and that is what he used to call her. Come here my pixie…where did your wings go pixie…how did you become such a magical little pixie… But those were just memories. He shook off the visions of the past, and had to come back to face reality.

Tonight was worse than usual. Her hair was matted, clotted, and a twisted mess. Her eyes were encircled with darkened colors of black and purple, and her eyes were no longer shining emeralds. They ceased to be exquisite gems, and were now a tired and worn down shade. It was as if they were lost a sea, and sinking fast. Her skin, once a tan peach color, was now a milky and unhealthy shade of white. She hadn’t been out of the house in months. Nothing was what it once was.

Her hands were raw and bleeding again. She wouldn’t even ever notice. She would just see it as something else to clean up, and not her own self-harm. She would only see the dirt. She would never see what she needed to, and he knew that. He could only accept that.

As usual, he grabbed bandages and gauze from the linen closet, and sat down beside her as she scrubbed away at the toilet. He let out a breath, and began to wrap her hands, even as she kept on cleaning. He tried to maneuver around her, but it was a rougher night than usual. She kept fighting back, as her blood dripped out everywhere. And then she whipped her hand back and hit him, square in the face. She kept hitting him, her emerald eyes more lively than ever.

Each blow was seemingly harder than the last, but he felt nothing. He stared up from his back at those eyes, as he felt the blood rushing from his head. Her eyes hadn’t been that bright in ages, and for the first time, probably since before the accident, he smiled. He smiled as she pummeled him with blows. She always did pack a punch, he thought, as the blood began to fill his mouth. He knew that there was no end in sight, but he still smiled. He knew that he was bleeding internally as well, and that the end was near. My pixie...

She stopped once he stopped breathing. Then, she saw some dirt on the wall, and went back to cleaning. She grabbed her green soap, and all was well.

back to Contest #1