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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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begging for love in a suicide threat
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he watched her sleep. she looked so quiet,
so peaceful. he examined her throat,
watching the soft pulse of blood just
beneath her skin. her skin was pale, and
a thin sheet of sweat slicked her skin.
he held his hand over her mouth, just
a few centimeters from her lips. he
sighed with relief when her warm breath
reached his palm.
she was going to live.
he stared apprehensively at the empty
bottle on the floor. he loved his sister
dearly, but he did not know how much more
of this he could take. he looked away from
the bottle and watched the breeze push the
curtains away from the window. he closed
his eyes tightly and wondered what else
she had done.
might as well find out.
he had noticed earlier that blood had
seeped through her white sheets. the phone
that she had used to call him with was
beneath them, the cord snaking
menacingly from the wall jack. he took
a deep breath and lifted the sheet.
his throat closed.
both of her arms had been sliced
beyond recognition. there was more gash
than skin visible, and a small pool of
blood had collected beneath each arm.
the razor had been cast aside. she was so
beautiful.. how could she destroy
herself this way?
damn her.
he rose from the bed and retrieved the
first aid kit from the bathroom. he
gently bandaged her wounds and checked
her pulse. it looked like everything was
going to be ok. he put fresh sheets over
her and sat in the chair next to her bed.
her journal was on the table next to him.
guiltily he took the journal from the
table and began to read. perhaps he
could help her if he knew what she was
thinking. suddenly he was absorbed in
the details of his sister's life. he
read about everything that had ever
happened to her. he knew her innermost
thoughts, and they made him feel dirty.
hours passed.
he wandered the house aimlessly as dawn
broke. he never knew. he had no idea what
had happened to his sister, and he never
protected her. it was his fault. he would
never forgive himself. no wonder she
embraced death so freely.
elaine woke, wincing at the stiffness of
the caked blood on her arms.
she rose. the house was silent. she looked
around her room. something was different.
(her journal. he had read her journal.)
she ran from the room, hurriedly searching
each room in the house. she finally found
him in her den.
"jake? jake, are you awake?"
silence.
she walked around one side of the chair
and screamed. half of his head was missing,
the rest of it splattered wildly on the
desk. the gun glinted peacefully in the
morning light, lightly dusted with
bits of brain and skull.
she was free.
Palpable Obscure
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