The Ripper's Final Call

A/N: Trish said I could! So...its not a poem....

One movement. That was all it would take me. One swift motion, and all my pain would come pouring out. I could just envision the way the crimson rivers would flow, the echo of each agonizing drip as it fell from the skin, parted like the lips of lovers.

The razor was gripped in my hand, too tightly, too tightly. My knuckles stood out, the contrast of white against white. I was somewhere between hell and the stars, in that void where nothing could reach me, the space where misery and sorrow met numbness. Relief.

Hesitation had never been my thing. And my mind was made up- wasnt it? So why was I still holding back? Why couldnt I ever bring the blade deep enough? 

It was those eyes, those damned eyes. So blue, so crystalline and perfect. He was everywhere I went now, in the back of my mind. He was always there to watch over me, protect me. I knew he had only kept me sane out of mere obligation. He had only kissed me to keep me alive. He had only held me because I so reminded him of her, the girl he hadnt bothered to save.

I only noticed the tears when one of them fell onto the fragile skin of my wrist. It shimmered in its translucent way, my very own star to watch, to wonder, to wish. And I was wishing, wasnt I? Wishing for him to love me once again. Or at least pretend he did.

I knew I had to end it, then. Had to make him love me the way he'd loved her. And if this was the only way.... well, that beautiful boy only ever loved what he couldnt have anyway.

The first touch of metal to skin was always so seductive, so sensual. Every fiber of my being cried out for more, more free-flowing tenderness as the blood began to rise to the surface.

I told myself long after that, i never meant to answer the phone. But there it sat, a sudden vibration as it whirred to life, ringing out and slicing through the shadows. A silent curse fell from my lips as I reached for it, ignoring every ounce of pain. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I flipped it open.

"Hello?" I managed to gasp out.

"Shannon," the voice on the other line was the epitome of relief. I did all I could to fight back tears as the speaker let out a shaky sigh. "I..I had a really bad feeling about you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

Three months. I'd waited three months to hear his voice, like a soft serenade. I'd wasted countless nights wishing that he would call, that he would find it in him to forgive me for all I'd done.

A nervous laugh escaped my lips. "Yeah," I stammered. The razor tumbled from my fingertips into the darkness beyond. I thought I vaguely heard it hit the floor. "Yeah, I'm, um, I'm doing alright."

"Good." I could just picture him so, in that room I'd always hated, in the chaos that was his very essence. "I just...." Dramatic pause. He'd always been one for the dramatics. "I love you, Shannon. I know how sick that must sound. But it's true, I love you, and if I thought I was going to lose you like....her, I dont think I'd make it."

Despite the tears that I couldnt shake, the slightest of smiles had found it's way onto my face. I felt my body trembling as I eased into bed, pulling the covers tightly around me.

"Dont worry," I assured him. "You're not going to lose me. Not tonight."

The End

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