Post by Wolf_Legend on Nov 2, 2010 20:36:57 GMT -5
Katelyn sat, her back to the open area of the bar. Her finger circled the condesnsation on the outside of her glass. It was filled to the top with a brown liquid: beer.
She slapped the counter with her hand. She had been here an hour, just starring at the glass. The slap on the counter was not out of anger, nor frustration, but just tiredness. It was still late in the afternoon, not even dark, but she was tired of everything. The slap on the counter was one of giving up, of surrendering. She was done fighting.
She got up.
She walked to the door, and left, walking home on her own.
She left the glass sitting there on the counter, water dripping from its sides down to the counter and making a pool around its glass frame.
She walked down the sidewalk, her eyes swolen and red from crying. Her face was paler than usual, and her mind was flooding. She was in a weekend state, a vunerable state.
She had gone to the one place that had been the cause of bringing joy to her life: The place she met Domino-- twice.
The place they met first, and then the place they met a year after when he came back, when he was finished running.
Domino had been everything to her; her love; her mind; her heart; her life. But now, all that was either broken or gone.
She walked down the sidewalk, her face towards the ground, her hands in her pockets, her mind blank now.
It was an hour later when she got home. She walked in, leaving the front door completely open, not even caring. Glass was throne everywhere. It littered the floor and she just walked right over it like it didn't bother her. There were cuts up and down her body, mostly on her neck, shoulders, arms, and stomach, but they were everywhere.
She picked up something from the table, stuck it in her pocket. It was black and metallic: a gun.
She picked up a picture from from the table beside the couch. It was a picture of Domino. She threw it on the ground. THe frame and glass both broke, and she bent down, moved a couple pieces of the glass, and picked up the picture. He had a perfect smile in this one. He was beautiful.
She went over to the wall, took the gun out of her pocket, set it beside her and then plopped down, starting to sob again.
Glass was literally everwhere on the floor. Every single thing in her house had either been turned over or broken except for the windows.
She slumped over on her side, crying even harder, holding on to Domino's picture, hanging on to it as if it were her life.
Her breathing soon slowed, but tears kept falling from her eyes to the floor. She soon slipped unconscious, her head on the floor beside her, her face wet from tears, hre clothes stained with blood and everything else that she broke ealier.
The cuts on her body still had not healed, and some of them were starting to bleed again from the pressure. They were tiny cuts, as if she were caught in a blizzard, and each piece of snow was as sharp as glass itself, but some cuts were long and deep, some in which would take a long while before they were healed.
SHe sat there, in a state of unconsiousness, not having a care in the world.
She slapped the counter with her hand. She had been here an hour, just starring at the glass. The slap on the counter was not out of anger, nor frustration, but just tiredness. It was still late in the afternoon, not even dark, but she was tired of everything. The slap on the counter was one of giving up, of surrendering. She was done fighting.
She got up.
She walked to the door, and left, walking home on her own.
She left the glass sitting there on the counter, water dripping from its sides down to the counter and making a pool around its glass frame.
She walked down the sidewalk, her eyes swolen and red from crying. Her face was paler than usual, and her mind was flooding. She was in a weekend state, a vunerable state.
She had gone to the one place that had been the cause of bringing joy to her life: The place she met Domino-- twice.
The place they met first, and then the place they met a year after when he came back, when he was finished running.
Domino had been everything to her; her love; her mind; her heart; her life. But now, all that was either broken or gone.
She walked down the sidewalk, her face towards the ground, her hands in her pockets, her mind blank now.
It was an hour later when she got home. She walked in, leaving the front door completely open, not even caring. Glass was throne everywhere. It littered the floor and she just walked right over it like it didn't bother her. There were cuts up and down her body, mostly on her neck, shoulders, arms, and stomach, but they were everywhere.
She picked up something from the table, stuck it in her pocket. It was black and metallic: a gun.
She picked up a picture from from the table beside the couch. It was a picture of Domino. She threw it on the ground. THe frame and glass both broke, and she bent down, moved a couple pieces of the glass, and picked up the picture. He had a perfect smile in this one. He was beautiful.
She went over to the wall, took the gun out of her pocket, set it beside her and then plopped down, starting to sob again.
Glass was literally everwhere on the floor. Every single thing in her house had either been turned over or broken except for the windows.
She slumped over on her side, crying even harder, holding on to Domino's picture, hanging on to it as if it were her life.
Her breathing soon slowed, but tears kept falling from her eyes to the floor. She soon slipped unconscious, her head on the floor beside her, her face wet from tears, hre clothes stained with blood and everything else that she broke ealier.
The cuts on her body still had not healed, and some of them were starting to bleed again from the pressure. They were tiny cuts, as if she were caught in a blizzard, and each piece of snow was as sharp as glass itself, but some cuts were long and deep, some in which would take a long while before they were healed.
SHe sat there, in a state of unconsiousness, not having a care in the world.