My Wretched Rights

And there it was the unnerving bite of chilling jealousy. I hated it. The dread and the twist of wretchedness, tearing at my chest, the pit of my stomach, my mind. All was instantly black. Terribly dark. I hated the way it made me feel. Why couldn't I be beyond it, why couldn't I just let it go?

I knew the answer to this question, of course. He was so much a part of me now. The fact that this had haunted me for so long had embedded it into my skin, there was no such thing as a band-aid fix. Only surgery, life threatening surgery, could remove him from me. The rarest of chronic cancers.

It wasn't his fault that it did this to me. But, then again, how couldn't he know? He might if he was paying any sort of attention. The times I let it slip, when my control breaks and my emotions display themselves plainly on my face. Those times when I just don't care enough to try to hide it. I wonder what he makes of those. Probably nothing, ignorance is bliss.

The sound of his voice snaps me back into reality.

"Anna?"

I look up. I notice that his hand's still in hers. Again the biting agony. I can't look away quick enough to hide it.

His eyes blink, and his eyebrows pucker. "Anna, you okay?"

I have to breathe deeply. No. "Yes."

"Oh, you just looked…"

I shrugged. He didn't have to finish his sentence, I knew how I looked.

Heartbroken.

They continued their conversation. I was no longer a participant. Of course they didn't notice.

It was pathetic. Ridiculous that he should affect me so much. You'd think I'd get used to it, considering how many times I've already lost him in my mind. I didn't. How pitiful.

It was hard to believe that yesterday I was soaring. The higher you are the harder you fall.

I couldn't stand falling much longer. My body must become mangled at some point. The impact of freefall isn't harmless.

Why did he choose today to notice?

"You sure Anna?" he asked.

Of course I'm sure. I've dealt with this how many times on my own?

"Ya, nothing is wrong Nicholas." I smiled, blazingly fake.

He noticed, his face fell, and his eyes pulled tight at the corners.

I would have to try a bit harder.

I dug up the reserve strength, the "don't-give- up" mentality. I could already tell it wouldn't work.

I forced a laugh. It fell flat. Shit.

"Anna?"

I refused to look at him. I pretended not to hear him.

He was saying something to me or maybe to her, I didn't know. I was too busy spiraling into misery to notice. Luckily the bell rang.


There we are. My first short story ever. I tried a new style of writing, sort of a thrown together monologue and dialogue. I know it's your cliché heart broken sappy stuff, but I was trying something new. I think I got the tenses messed up, but I liked the way it sounded anyways, so I didn't bother to fix it. I realize that it starts and ends funny, but that's how I decided to write it…Oh, ya and I also realize the grammar sucks, but yet again I liked the way it sounded.

Thanks for reading,

arial-96