Even though this is just the beginning, it feels as if you've reached the end. There is no yellow brick road to follow, no bread crumbs to lead you. Just you, and the sound of your heartbeat against your ear.

  With your hand, you wipe the sweat off your forehead. It's cold to the touch. And as your eyes adjust to the dim light, you start to see the silhouettes of your past. They are displayed to you in black and white, just like the old movies. You see your life in flashes, too quick for the human mind, but your mind seems to capture them all. You grasp at them, but they fade away, vanishing quickly like does happy moments you used to experience.

  You can taste old chewing gum in your mouth, and it reminds you of when you would keep the same piece all day long when you were a kid, even though the flavor was long gone. Just like your first love, which you stubbornly held on to, although you knew it was over long before it begun.

  You clench your teeth in frustration, wishing for the silhouettes to completely disappear, and stop the torment. Because you know now, it's very clear, that you should have listened. Your mother's voice, sweet and gentle, rests at the back of your mind, and reminds you yet again of your lost. And your father's voice, booming with authority, scorns you.

  Stop.

  Now that the darkness is gone, your heartbeat dims, and is replaced by the tears of your beloved. The sobs you hear, you know, are real. And you stretch your hand, as far as you can, to touch that tender cheek on which the tears rest on. The gasp that escapes those tender rose lips, and the shine of those big, round eyes, make your guilt rise, from your gut to your eyes. Your hand slides down and rests by your side, leaving you with a lost of warmth.

  You can't give up.

  Even though your body is dumb, the strong smell of rubbing alcohol awakens all of your other senses. And the tears that your mother shed, awakens your heart.

  No, it's true. This is not the end. This is the beginning.

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Author guidance for This story

I know that this is a slow story, but please bear with me.
I am trying to portray all of the feelings my character is feeling in a way for evereyone else to feel them too.
If it's too slow for your liking feel free to say so. And anything that would make this story better is welcome as well.
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The stories style of writing might change later on, just because it's easier for the author (aka me). But I might as well leave it in this person, since that way one can connect with the character in a different way.
What do you guys think?

updated Aug 17 '09 by Engelik