Breaking Point

A man is crippled by his past (edited version)

She plucked a few blades of grass and shoved them toward me.

          “Are these not important?”

          I stared at her, dumbfounded.  She reached down and grabbed a handful of grass and wildflowers.  She hurled them at me.

          “Are these meaningless?”

          She lunged at me, pelting my chest with closed fists.  “Does anything mean anything to you?!” she cried.  “Don’t you feel anything?”

          I stood still under the barrage, not putting any effort into keeping her at arm’s length.  I let her hammer at me until her energy was spent.  Her sobs turned into little hiccups.  I put my arms around her, drawing her close but I didn’t say a word.  She was right.  I was empty inside, nothing but a cold, dry husk.  I patted her back trying to placate her.  I didn’t even really feel sorry for her sadness.  I had nothing inside to give.  I hadn’t for a long time, not since that night.  Oh, I tried to move on with my life.  I went through the motions.  I finished college, went to all the frat parties, had some flings, graduated and got a job.  I’ve pasted smiles on my face but they’ve never reached my eyes.  This relationship was just one more failed attempt to jump start my heart- to feel.  Should have known it wouldn’t work.

 

          After a few minutes she drew in a ragged breath and pulled back.  I dropped my arms to my side as she rested her forehead against my chest.  “I can’t do it anymore.”  Her voice was quiet.  “I can’t pretend that it’s okay and I can’t hope that it’s going to get any better.”  

I stared down at the crown of her auburn hair, noting the part and the way the sunshine gleamed on the strands.  “Still nothing?” she asked, pain and sadness in her eyes.  I stared back at her.  She sighed.  “Then, Jase, this is goodbye.  I hope you can find happiness.”  I didn’t respond and she turned and walked away.  She had only gone a few steps when she looked back.  Pity shone in her eyes, “I really hope you can find something that makes you feel alive.” 

          And then she was gone.

I looked down at the red and white blanket I had spread on the grass.  Our picnic lunch of fried chicken and wine sat barely touched, getting tepid in the sun.  I drew in a deep breath, tipping my face up to the sun.   Eyes closed, I forced the air from my lungs.  I raked my hand through my hair and sat down.  Closing my eyes, I lay back on the blanket.  I was tired, emotionally and physically.  Every night my sleep was interrupted by flashes- glimpses, shattered images.   I hadn’t put any effort into trying to piece it all together to remember what really happened.  The flashes were horrifying enough.

Flashes of blood on my hands-angelic face-eyes closed in death-covered in blood-seeping, spreading-turning gray, red-hard floor under knees-blood pooling-vacuum of air-no sound…suspended.

Bell above door jingles-sounds, feelings flood back-mother comes in-sees son, my blood soaked hands-wails, falls to knees-tears streaming

Friend runs around mom-jerks me to my feet, eyes wild looking at my hands-he’s shouting-I don’t understand-he’s shaking me, words register-“What happened?  What have you done?  What have you done?”

I woke up with a start and sat bolt upright.  Disoriented, I looked at the red blanket and spread of food.  I remembered Rachel leaving.  And I began to get pissed off.  Anger, an emotion I hadn’t experienced in years.  It felt good, it felt alive.  I took the corners of the blanket and pulled them together like a knapsack with the whole damn picnic inside.  I dropped it into a trash barrel on my way back to my car.  I had a purpose now.  I was going to get some answers.

Author's Note

This is a cleaned up version of an earlier story. This story is to be continued.

I welcome any and all comments/critiques!

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Yes, this is a lot better than the earlier version. You've got a good beginning, here, and most who read it will want to continue.

[Jack Wolfe]

I happened to see this on my feed, and seeing as I’m doing everything in my power to procrastinate against my own writing. I thought I’d have a look. Hope you don’t mind.

She reached down and grabbed grass and wildflowers in each hand.

Perhaps: She reached down and grabbed a handful of grass and wildflowers, “Are these not important?” she cried, hurling them at me. “Are these meaningless?”

The next thing I knew. (this is the equivalent of all of the sudden, out-of-nowhere, suddenly: In story form, nothing happens ‘suddenly’ time slows down, the tone, story and the writer’s diction carries the momentum.

I raked my hand through my dark brown hair and sat down. (if you were the character or writing about yourself, would you mention your hair-color?)

This was much better. I can’t wait to see where this goes.

[Sharon Kim]

Jack, I'm glad you saw it, I was going to send a read request but I wasn't able to because we aren't officially friends.


I almost changed that line about his hair for that exact reason. I should have went with my gut!

Thank you for reading and for your comments, they are very helpful. I will look into them.

[Jack Wolfe]

No problem, thanks for the read. I'm interested to see where you go with this. I accepted your friend request, so you shouldn't have problems in the future.

[Jack Wolfe]

On a side note, don't know if you're superstitious, but when i copied and pasted this into word (easier for me to read and make notes) it counted word count, 666, thought it was funny.

[Sharon Kim]

Thank you for accepting my friend request! I'm not too superstitious, but that is funny! It definitely wasn't intentional. And thanks for the suggestions, I've made the changes! ;)