Heartbroken

On Raven's boyfriend's birthday, she finally goes over to his house to present him with the gift she's been working her butt off for. But what she sees stuns her... And leaves her heartbroken.

The neck of the guitar was cool in my hand as I clutched it against me as if it would disappear if I were to let go. I had been saving up for that gift for years, working my a*s off at McDonalds or any other place that would accept a 16-year-old emo girl to work for them... Which wasn't many. Then I would come home and endure the hours of work of raking leaves and shoveling snow and mowing lawns for money as well.

I was depressed. Had been for the last few days. I didn't know what was making me so sad. I'd been laying on my bed for the last few hours, tracing the lines in my ceiling with my eyes. I was extremely bored, and wanted to see Varen. I missed him, and I thought maybe he might have been the only thing that could snap me out of this depression.

I needed to see him later today, or I might have just died. Hoping he would like the electric guitar I had bought him, I wrapped it up in some corny paper that had little cakes with one giant candle that read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" and trudged through the rain to his house, tucking what I could under my shirt to keep the precious gift dry.

It'll all be worth it when you see his smile, Raven, I thought to myself as I turned the corner to get onto his street. I saw his house; an old Victorian home, made of bricks complete with a front porch the size of my bedroom. With renewed vigor I started to run, careful not to trip myself and hurt the precious guitar with our initials engraved into it. R&V Forever.

I knocked on his door, finally under shelter against the rain, and his mom answered, looking flustered. Her hair was amiss, and she had no makeup on, which was extremely rare for somebody like her. She had short, wispy brown hair. It was only brown because she dyed it, or else it would be silver. As it was, it looked like a gray brown.

"Oh, Raven! Hello, dear! I was just starting to get ready for Varen's birthday party. Oh, you're all wet! Come inside! He's up in his room; I told him he couldn't come out until all of his guests were here. Go on up, honey!" She gushed in her odd accent, although I wasn't sure what kind of accent it was. It sounded a little bit British, yet a little bit something else. I couldn't place a finger on it.

Shrugging that off, I murmured, "Thanks a lot, Miss Riley. I'll go straight up."

I started to head for the stairs when she grabbed me by the back of my collar to stop me, effectively cutting off my air. Gasping, I tensed out of instinct and she let go. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey. Just remember to take your shoes off; they're wet." She gave me a disapproving look, as if she was unhappy with the thought of my family not taking our shoes off when we go into our house, as I slipped my old, ratty tennis shoes onto the rug in the entrance foyer.

Sighing and mentally shaking my head in my own disapproval, I hopped up the stairs, starting to wonder what the thud, thud, thud sound that was coming from his room was. I knocked on his peeling white door and got no answer, so I opened it a crack and peered in.

The bed was on the wall against the same wall as the door, so I couldn't see him. He was usually lounging on his bed reading, or writing poetry. I opened the door more and peered around it, my face lighting up and my lips stretching into a smile as I held the package out and yelled, "Happy birthday, baby!! You're-"

I stopped with an astonished look on my face, my smile fading as I took in what I saw.





















Varen, with his black hair with a purple streak and eyeliner and black lipstick and piercings, was laying on his bed. His clothes were in a pile on the floor, a pile of black with the occasional silver chains. Next to that, another pile of black clothes, with the occasional streak of hot pink. On top of Varen was a girl who looked almost exactly like me. She had long, black hair with a pink streak, cut into a scene style. She was tall and lanky, but had good hips. She was on her knees next to the bed, naked. She was making slurping noises that sent goosebumps up my arms. I looked away before I could see what she was doing. Varen was groaning, moaning what must have been her name. They were so absorbed in what they were doing, they hadn't even noticed me come in the door or my outburst.

The electric guitar that had cost me a thousand bucks fell to the floor with a thud. This made them stop their moaning and look up at me, Sam's face red and wet, Varen's red and twisted in an expression of shock. I blinked a few times, unable to move. Then, leaving the guitar where it lay on the floor, I bolted through the doorway and down the stairs, running into Varen's mother and popping out a "sorry!" before running into the front door while trying to open it; Miss Riley had locked it.

"D****t," I yelled, fumbling with the lock.

I needed to get out of that house. I could feel my black eyeliner and mascara running down my cheeks, and dripping off of my chin onto my shirt. I heard my ragged breathing, the sobs that ripped out of my chest as I tried to turn the doorknob with my shaky hands, not comprehending that I had to unlock the door because I was so devastated.

I felt arms wrap around my waist. Strong, pale arms. Muscles. I wanted to lean back into Varen's embrace, but instead I reached back and pushed him away. No, more like shoved him away. I turned around, my arms hanging limp at my sides, and stared at him with angry and defeated eyes.

"What the f**k do you-" I hiccuped, "-Want, Varen? For all I care, we're d-done." I turned back around and, finally comprehending, twisted the deadbolt and opened the door, the cold, wet air hitting me like a slap in the face. I stepped out into it, trying to shut the door behind me, but it caught on something. I let out a cry of frustration as I realized his foot was wedged in the opening. I pushed it back inward and pulled it back it as hard as I could against his foot, causing him to help and leap back with a cry of pain. I stumbled my way down the stone steps, slippery and wet, almost immediately drenched in the downpour, my feet still shoeless and covered only by socks. Which served no purpose; they were soaked, too. Almost immediately my toes went numb.

Regardless, I started running. And running. I tripped over my numb feet and fell in a puddle, my knees scraping against the concrete sidewalk. I got up and kept going. I tripped again turning the corner. Crossing the street, I ignored the crosswalk and just ran, almost getting hit by a red car. Not that it mattered much. I wouldn't care if I died.

Finally, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I ran up the driveway to my house. I went to open the door but encountered the same problem as before; it was locked. And in my rush to give that stupid f*****g present to Varen, I had left my keys inside, forgetting that my father would be leaving soon to go to work. In a sudden burst of emotion, I pounded my fist into the door. Again, harder this time. I saw a little red mark on the white peeling pain. I didn't care; I hit it again. A forth time. I let my eyes close and my head bow, sobbing body-heaving sobs as I trudged through the mud to the back of the house, where the screen door was. I tried that; it was locked as well.

Defeated, I slumped against the back door of the house, bringing my knees up to my chest in a fetal position and resting my face between them, my wet hair making a heavy, dripping curtain around me as I sat in a bubble filled with self-loathing and despair.









The window made a crash as I broke it in with my fist. I felt pieces of glass pierce my hand, but I was oblivious as I knocked the remaining shards out with my foot and climbed in. The few shards I hadn't been able to knock out were cutting into my skin. I fell in the window, landing in a wet heap on the couch. I rolled myself off of it and to the floor, smacking my face in the process but not giving a s**t. I crawled to the stairs agonizingly slowly. I needed something in my room. I didn't know what, but I needed something that was in my room.

I forced myself to keep going, to make my way up the stairs, one by one, never getting off my hands and knees. I finally reached the top and turned right, heading for my room. My dark brown polished oak door that my father made himself. I shoved it open with my shoulder, and found myself digging around in the drawer in my nightstand until I found what I must have been looking for. A pink razor, a Gillette For Women. I had done this before, if only a couple times. Taken apart a razor to see what it really felt lie to watch that blood form beads on your wrists.

I found myself sitting on my bed, prying the blades apart with a nail file, finally breaking one free, unbent.

One cut.

Blood beaded.

Built up.

Started to drip.

Cold sharp pain.

Tears.

Two cuts.

More blood beaded.

Built up.

Started to drip.

Cold, sharp pain.

More tears.

A third cut.

Deeper this time.

I shook.

Twitched.

Started to get dizzy.

D
e
e
p
e
r.

A forth cut.

Very deep.

I jerked.

Dug deeper.

Deeper.

Deeper.

Vision started to go black.

A bang.

Yelling. Sounds through a tunnel.

Raven, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, Raven, I love you... Stay with me, baby.

I knew this voice.

Where did I know this voice from?

Hello, 911? Get me an ambulance at...

I struggled.

Hung on.

Clung to the edge with my fingertips.

knew I must stay with the voice.

It was getting hard.

Harder.

I used the last of my strength trying to find a reason to keep going.

Varen.

Stuck love inside of me. But also struck pain. Why? Why pain? Hurt enough already.

H
u
r
t
s.

I swirled.

Twirled.

Saw a face in my mind's eye.

A little boy.

Micah.

Micah. My feels-like son.

Had to be there... For him...

I started to black out. Lost chunks of time.

Raven! Stay with me, I can explain... I-

I blacked out.

Came to. Pain. Blood. Lots of it. I could kind of see.

Blur.

Black around eyes. Streaked down a face. Black hair. Purple streak. How...? Hair doesn't grow purple. Lip piercing. Nose piercing. Black lips. How did he have black lips? Lips aren't black. Pink. They're pink.

I blacked out.

Woke up.

Pain.

Movement. Being carried. Strong arms. Look up into a face. Same face. Love face.

Varen.

Memories flash.

A girl.

Pink streak.

Piles of clothes.

I black out.

The last words I heard.

I love you, Raven.

Author's Note

Does this seem rushed or anything? Don't tell me a bunch of good things, please. Include some bad. I want to know how I could do better.

I know for the last, like, half of the story, it's all fragmented and stuff. I meant for it to be that way, because I know (not from experience, mind you,) that when you do stuff like she did you don't think right. So I kind of made that into the story. Sorry if it bugs you.

Hope you liked.