Drunk story part 6 (The End)


“I don’t think I know who you are…”

“Oh, but I’m sure you do. If you thought really hard.”

She kisses him.

It’s a surprise, he pulls away.

His lips feel like a match is being held to them. The blood in his throat feels like it’s turning into metal, choking him.

He throws up again.

“That’s right…get it all out. You’ll feel much better afterwards.

“But…it’s blood.”

“Don’t worry about that…”

He’s curling up tighter and tighter as he coughs up more blood, screaming and crying out for help. The woman just shushes and coos at him, stroking his hair.

Things are going darker, the room feels like it’s closing in.

Something is breathing on the back of his neck. Hot, rust-smelling breath.

“I…I think it’s in here…”

“Don’t worry…it wont hurt you while I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

He lifts his head up. It hurts to do that. His whole body hurts. “Are you an angel or something…”
“Definitely or something.”

She smiles and his heart breaks. He wants to hold her, to kiss her, to make love to her.

He reaches out his hand towards her. It feels like his shoulder breaks.

Fingertips finally touch her thigh. He falls in love, despair, extacy.

“I don’t know what’s happening….”

He tries to look up at her, he feels his pupils dilate. “I think the monsters in here with us…did I already say that? I don’t know what’s happening. I think I love you…”

“I know you do…and it’s okay. It’s almost over.”

Easily, she brings him to his feet and wraps her arms around him. “Love is a very powerful emotion. It fights fear.”

He smiles, the skin around his mouth cracks and bleeds, but he continues to smile.

She kisses him again. This time he doesn’t pull away and lets himself be drawn in to her lips.

“But I’ll tell you a secret. The whole time you were afraid of what was out there. Blocking yourself in here…” His eyes are closed, his lips trying to fill the empty space left by her kiss. “…you should have been more afraid of what was already in here.”

Something like a knife- a long, thing, burning knife- slips up and under his ribs. A moan breaks free from his throat and cracks as his heart is pierced.

“I think…can you…tell Jane I’m ready to go home. I’m not feeling too good.”

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About litbandit

El Bandito Bibliotequa...or something.
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