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The faint stench of decay crept over the room like a thousand unwelcome insects. He hadn't moved for weeks, not from that one place he had last been able to hold her. He'd been slouching in the yellow arm chair facing the sixth-story window, looking down on traffic. God, she was so beautiful. He wished he could still cry, but his body reminded him that he had long since ran into full dehydration. The sores under him brought him an estranged amount of comfort. His stomach no longer hurt. He almost laughed when he actually wondered if his stomach was still there at all.

He tried to listen to the traffic outside of the window. Below the humming of pain, he could hear it all. He twitched when he heard a car horn. It all came flooding back again. He remembered how her frail frame looked in that big mahogany casket. He felt so bad for leaving her alone in it. She still managed to look like a porcelain doll, even more so with half of her head recrafted from clay. His mind replayed the accident: She had smiled, kissed him, and wished him goodnight. She turned and stepped into the street. As he began to turn, he saw it heading towards her. He had tried to scream in time, but he was interrupted by the truck's squealing tires. Her body was shoved like a rag doll from the truck's grill. When she finally landed, her head smashed like a pumpkin on the pavement.

He felt his heart stop for a few seconds. It wouldn't be long now, and she wouldn't be alone anymore. The skin on his face dug into the muscle, and his bones jutted violently outwards. His nostrils whistled as they clawed oxygen into his tired lungs. His eyes grew weary from his refusal to move them from the spot outside the window where she'd smiled. They began to lull and roll back into his head. He could see her walking towards him from the road. She smiled sweetly and wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned into him, and touched the side of his face. She tilted her head and brushed her lips lightly against his. His heart slowed. She kissed him.

His mouth fell open and a whisper of last breath fled the tired body of a broken-hearted man.


------
I am Jack's wasted life.
I'd like to thank the Academy...


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Comments

The following comments are for "Dissociation, Part 3: The Broken"
by coma

powerful imagery
How could the first line not suck me in?

This was very powerful! My only distraction was too many "she's" in the last few lines.

Great read - thanks for posting!

Felicia

( Posted by: FeliciaStone [Member] On: April 13, 2005 )





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