FicWad

I awoke to darknes...

I couldn't see anything, I could only feel. I felt the hard, cold floor beneath me. I felt the freezing air pressing onto me, filling my lungs with a burning emptiness. I could feel that pain from my fighting; the pain that threatened to strangle me. The pain in my chest, not caused by my burning lungs, stung and throbbed. My love would soon be thrown in front of council that didn't understand the first thing about what our love was about. My heart would soon be sentenced as if he comitted an abominable and unspeakable sin. My breath would expire...and so would I.

I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to remember most. My father was a great man, always trying to help others before even helping himself. I loved him more because he never gave up on me. When my mother resorted to faking her happiness even after I failed, my father genuinly told me that I'd get better, that I shouldn't let it get to me; that I should brush myself off and start again. But dad, if you're listening, how do I brush myself off and start again from this?

My mother had never really believed much in people, mainly because no one really told her that she could be destined for more than just a waitressing job at the local diner. Her mother was ruthless and never really believed in her daughter, but paid my mother's way into Dartmouth in New Hampshire. My mother's family was rich beyond comparison. After she became pregnant with me during her last year of college, her family wrote her off and gave her not a penny of money. That might've been the reason my mother was so pushy about me doing something better with my life...that might've been why my mom resented me. I was the reason she only got half of her trustfund; I was the reason she was left to taking a job at a local diner, serving food and coffee to old men who had nothing else to do at 6:30 in the morning.

My life was never really that spectacular, and the most eventful thing was when my father died. The funeral was small because he didn't really know much of his family. He was an immigrant from Italy, and became a citizen, living with his parents who spoke absolutely no English in Staten Island. His mother began to have problems with hurting herself and had to be taken to Seaview Mental Hospital. She died in the fire when my father was seventeen. That's when he knew he wanted to fight fires.

Again, my own life had been far more uneventful than both my parents. It was a normal life where my mother had shielded me from the world and my father tried to get me cultured. I went to private school, did the best I could and ended up at Princeton University on full scholarship. That's just how hard I worked almost all of my life, and to think that now all of my hard work would be over. To think that my struggle to always prove others wrong was just about to be over...forever.

My heart raced at the thought. I would only be breathing for a few more hours at the least, two days at the most. Was I really prepared to die just yet? Was my heart ready to give up? Was everything I strived for about to fall apart? Did it matter how much I prayed, hoped, or wished? Was anyone even listening anymore?

I decided it was useless to pray, hope, or wish if no one was listening. The darkness would forever be with me, and no one could change that. The darkness was my life. I lived my life blind to everything around me, I lived in darkness, not bothering to find a light, and when I found one, I clinged to it. I based my life on facts and statistics that didn't mean anything in the end. I lived through books and movies and other people's experiences, not really finding my own place in this world and experiencing life on my own. I instantly knew; I had lived in darkness, dying over and over every time I gave up living my own life. I was revived with Frank. Frank, even though he was dead, he taught me that mortality made everything that more fleeting than for himself. The darkness in this very room I was in was my life, and the faint light I did manage to see now had to be Frank. I had to cling to it.

The light was getting just a little brighter and then a door clanged open. I closed my eyes, trying to let the light shed onto my skin, hoping that this would be the quickest death...that I didn't have to suffer too long in this weak and cold shell. After all, my skin was nothing else but that.

I felt an even cooler hand grasp my arm and drag me out of the dark room into the bright hall. I closed my eyes instantly, my eyes hurt with betrayal that even tried to stare into the light. Why stare into the light this late? Why wake up now when it was time to go to sleep?...eternally...