The ManMature

The demons are dancing now, sins flashing faster and faster through her head. Blood begins to pour from her arms and her legs were the self-inflicted punishment flows. Crying, always crying but there is no escape. There is no way out for her, no way out. There is now only one option for Disposable, there is now only one option. Reaching beneath her muddied but once white dress, she is given a tool she now must use. Suicidal holds the gun in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks steadily now.

“There is truly no escape.” Whispers Despair, cradling the gun.

Trembling, she raises it to her head pressing her finger against the trigger. Snowflakes fall against the cold gun; she shall be buried in the welcoming cold. All the names she has been called, all the sins, all the titles she has bonded with and become one with have resurfaced. This is what she is; this is who she has become.  Death knows this is the punishment she deserves.

While the pressure in her finger begins to build against the trigger, she becomes aware of a noise.

A man crying. She imagines it is her that is crying but as she slowly opens tightly shut eyes she looks ahead her.

There crouches a man, on his knees. He wears a white cloak and his tear-filled eyes are watching her.

“Who would weep for me?” Forgotten wonders curiously.

The demons begin to lower their frantic cries, silenced by something that is stronger than punishment. He slowly stands, still sobbing. His sobs catch the girl’s breath; it is as if the world were crying for her and her infirmities. He approaches her, brokenness in his eyes. He lifts his trembling hand to her hand which still holds the gun against her head. There is something in the way his lips tremble; he is begging her to release her release.

Can she do it? Does she not deserve death? But there is something within his eyes that pleads with her for only a minute of her time. He gently takes the escape from her, drops it to the ground, then drops to his knees.

Taking off the white cloak that is wrapped around his shoulders, he lowers it to the ground where her blood has been spilt. The cloak becomes red with the stain of the blood flowing from her wrists, his hands are dyed with her blood. When is finished with wiping all of her blood of the ground he gently wraps her in the once white cloak.

Her eyes are still lowered, her breathing is ragged. Who is this man that would care that her blood has been spilled? She feels two warm hands under her chin, and she raises her head slowly. For the first time she looks into his eyes, there is a love within, like one who has found what he has been seeking for all of his life. Gasping, she sees herself in his eyes. She sees all the pain, all the labels she has clung to herself.

But she sees something new.

She sees what he sees when he looks at her. She cringes for a moment at the thought of once again labeling herself, but looks again. She sees something new, something she has never seen, something that has never been told to her.

Mask sees Genuine. Fake sees True. Lost sees Found. Depression sees Happiness. Abandon sees Found. Numb sees ExuberantUnloved sees Loved. Fat sees Beautiful. Panic sees Stable. Anxiety sees Calm. Worthless sees Potential. Hopeless sees Hope. Alone sees Companion. Broken sees Repaired. Captive sees Free. Exhaustion sees Rejuvenation. Oppressed sees Unbound. Failure sees Success. Shame sees CleanGuilty sees Forgiven. Tainted sees Pure. Victim sees Fighter. Used sees Conqueror.  Orphan sees Fathered. Damned sees Rescued. Emptiness sees Whole. Failure sees Victorious. Failure sees Winner. Slave sees Free. Desperation sees Hopeful. Accursed sees Blessed. Cutter sees Overcomer. Weak sees Strong. Disposable sees Unique. Suicide sees Life. Despair sees Potential.

She sees what she could become, but what must she do to become what she longs for the most? 

The End

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