"sick" they cried & they called! (shouted, one might say!) as he ran into the incandescent skyline, faster and faster, his mind leaping, legs doing somersaults- or was it the other way round? nothing made sense any more, nothing at all. his uncle once told him that if he couldn't understand something, it wasn't worth having; he was having a fucking hard time understanding life, was that worth having?
running faster and faster, his 'followers' (though far from loyal, blatant to even an outsider) close on his tail, his thoughts were consumed by the overwhelming calling of the urban jungle below, the motorway, fast & furious, stampeding fast below his rugged bare feet, tainted crimson-purple from the stones underfoot.
he considered considering it, but he was done over-thinking, he wouldn't be missed, he was sure of, and his mind was for once made up, not in between choices. with grace like he had always wished to possess, he let go of everything & jumped, his mind black before he had the chance to look back.
*
it was always going to be hard for grace, following the death of her dear brother, and her parents comprehended that – (or at least that's what they told themselves) but they saw it to be no valid cause for her to change on such a scale. it had hit many people hard, he had been "a friend to most, an enemy to few, and the best brother a girl could have asked for" – that's how grace had put it at the funeral, anyway, and through trembling lips and a sweating brow, she had managed to force the whole service to succumb into hysterics, before she too could be strong no longer, and tears trickled down her youthful face.
the death of grace's brother was not something a girl of only eight years old should go through, but she didn't see it that way; "paula's grandma died when she was six months old, and she's fine now. i'll be fine, i know i will". her friends at school had been particularly supportive, sharing anecdotes of deceased family pets, & tales of terminal cancerous illnesses tearing the foundations of marriages apart, but grace took them all with a pinch of salt, and tried to cope her own way.
her brother had always bought things for her, and this lead to her becoming even more fond of her older brother than many other girls her age, but also meant that her own allowance had been steadily increasing for many years.
the purchases began small; jet-black eyeliner and blood-red lipstick, but soon began to elevate, black jeans and studded garments – (which six months ago, she would have asked her brother if they were a murder weapon) and her parents grew more and more concerned by the day.
it wasn't long before grace had lost that sparkle in her deep blue eyes, and they had turned almost grey, all the life saturation drained from them, and her youthful sun-streaked hair had been tangled and torn, and dyed into a colour seen only before death, a purple to cause a haemorrhage. her soft, sun-kissed skin was covered in dark incisions and her legs were stained with bruises. she was still naive enough at her young age, to think her parents didn't notice, but they saw, they saw as she wandered around the house, soft-footed and flinching.
they tried talking to her, but it wasn't their words she seemed to want to hear, just the wails of suicidal band lyrics, and the crash of drums. her bedroom was a hurricane of change, colour had been sapped and replaced with black, and happiness was overshadowed by the ongoing feeling of regret; whenever anybody asked, she just told them it was too soon, it was never meant to happen..
weeks, months went by, and grace remained this new being, a person no longer touched by life's joys, but subdued to a life of sorrow (although this seemed to bring her contempt) – the weight of her brother's death on her shoulders. family friends one by one stopped coming to visit, intimidated perhaps, or just cared more for their own reputation than the welfare of their loved ones (who were fast becoming talk of the town (again))
more months, and the family went about their business, ghostly strangers in place of their own lives, faces pasty with the constant pressure of maintaining an iamge that things were okay. the television remained on the news channel, always, never any entertainment filled their home, the sole pleasure that was brought to their lives was when a day went by without the thought of their deceased loved one – one of these days was yet to happen, and until it did, they remained prisoners in their own storm of sadness, waiting for a sunny spell.
doctor's appointments for dear grace were becoming more and more frequent, as were the tubs and tubs of medication lining her shelves, which she hid under her tongue while her parents watched her take them- she didn't want help, nobody was there to help her brother, why should she be treated any different. when it was hard to keep the pill under any longer, she swallowed it, t the satisfaction of her parents, and waited until they left the home, before taking something – anything – she could find, and poking it down her mouth, her body ejecting the medication faster than it had been prescribed in the first place, the family bathroom becoming her own chamber of secrets.
finally, grace gave up, she couldn't do with the trauma and the lies any longer, she wanted now to make what she always had wanted, ever since the day she was able to make a conscious decision, she could be with her beloved brother, andrew. he had told her what he would do if it was ever too much, so she knew exactly the means to go about it- just the way he had done, so she could be just like he was, her religious early life cascading her thoughts of doubt.
she ran into that same incandescent skyline, wondering what it would feel like – would it be worse than what she felt now? the deep incisions covering her body in a mist of regret were throbbing as she ran through the damp forest, petrichor about the place made the whole experience more pleasant than she might have liked.
she propelled herself forwards, but she was smaller than he had been, and fell slower, she had time to scream out in desperation "i'll always love you, andrew" before she hit the bottom of a sea of cars – "an instant death to an innocent ten year old" the papers read for many weeks afterwards, whilst her parents fell apart with the loss of both of their children.
the sole regret of the parker children was that their parents lived on, believing it was their fault. the two may have been youthful, but shallow they were not, deep thoughts of destiny filled their minds, and they felt as though they knew exactly what to do, when.
running faster and faster, his 'followers' (though far from loyal, blatant to even an outsider) close on his tail, his thoughts were consumed by the overwhelming calling of the urban jungle below, the motorway, fast & furious, stampeding fast below his rugged bare feet, tainted crimson-purple from the stones underfoot.
he considered considering it, but he was done over-thinking, he wouldn't be missed, he was sure of, and his mind was for once made up, not in between choices. with grace like he had always wished to possess, he let go of everything & jumped, his mind black before he had the chance to look back.
*
it was always going to be hard for grace, following the death of her dear brother, and her parents comprehended that – (or at least that's what they told themselves) but they saw it to be no valid cause for her to change on such a scale. it had hit many people hard, he had been "a friend to most, an enemy to few, and the best brother a girl could have asked for" – that's how grace had put it at the funeral, anyway, and through trembling lips and a sweating brow, she had managed to force the whole service to succumb into hysterics, before she too could be strong no longer, and tears trickled down her youthful face.
the death of grace's brother was not something a girl of only eight years old should go through, but she didn't see it that way; "paula's grandma died when she was six months old, and she's fine now. i'll be fine, i know i will". her friends at school had been particularly supportive, sharing anecdotes of deceased family pets, & tales of terminal cancerous illnesses tearing the foundations of marriages apart, but grace took them all with a pinch of salt, and tried to cope her own way.
her brother had always bought things for her, and this lead to her becoming even more fond of her older brother than many other girls her age, but also meant that her own allowance had been steadily increasing for many years.
the purchases began small; jet-black eyeliner and blood-red lipstick, but soon began to elevate, black jeans and studded garments – (which six months ago, she would have asked her brother if they were a murder weapon) and her parents grew more and more concerned by the day.
it wasn't long before grace had lost that sparkle in her deep blue eyes, and they had turned almost grey, all the life saturation drained from them, and her youthful sun-streaked hair had been tangled and torn, and dyed into a colour seen only before death, a purple to cause a haemorrhage. her soft, sun-kissed skin was covered in dark incisions and her legs were stained with bruises. she was still naive enough at her young age, to think her parents didn't notice, but they saw, they saw as she wandered around the house, soft-footed and flinching.
they tried talking to her, but it wasn't their words she seemed to want to hear, just the wails of suicidal band lyrics, and the crash of drums. her bedroom was a hurricane of change, colour had been sapped and replaced with black, and happiness was overshadowed by the ongoing feeling of regret; whenever anybody asked, she just told them it was too soon, it was never meant to happen..
weeks, months went by, and grace remained this new being, a person no longer touched by life's joys, but subdued to a life of sorrow (although this seemed to bring her contempt) – the weight of her brother's death on her shoulders. family friends one by one stopped coming to visit, intimidated perhaps, or just cared more for their own reputation than the welfare of their loved ones (who were fast becoming talk of the town (again))
more months, and the family went about their business, ghostly strangers in place of their own lives, faces pasty with the constant pressure of maintaining an iamge that things were okay. the television remained on the news channel, always, never any entertainment filled their home, the sole pleasure that was brought to their lives was when a day went by without the thought of their deceased loved one – one of these days was yet to happen, and until it did, they remained prisoners in their own storm of sadness, waiting for a sunny spell.
doctor's appointments for dear grace were becoming more and more frequent, as were the tubs and tubs of medication lining her shelves, which she hid under her tongue while her parents watched her take them- she didn't want help, nobody was there to help her brother, why should she be treated any different. when it was hard to keep the pill under any longer, she swallowed it, t the satisfaction of her parents, and waited until they left the home, before taking something – anything – she could find, and poking it down her mouth, her body ejecting the medication faster than it had been prescribed in the first place, the family bathroom becoming her own chamber of secrets.
finally, grace gave up, she couldn't do with the trauma and the lies any longer, she wanted now to make what she always had wanted, ever since the day she was able to make a conscious decision, she could be with her beloved brother, andrew. he had told her what he would do if it was ever too much, so she knew exactly the means to go about it- just the way he had done, so she could be just like he was, her religious early life cascading her thoughts of doubt.
she ran into that same incandescent skyline, wondering what it would feel like – would it be worse than what she felt now? the deep incisions covering her body in a mist of regret were throbbing as she ran through the damp forest, petrichor about the place made the whole experience more pleasant than she might have liked.
she propelled herself forwards, but she was smaller than he had been, and fell slower, she had time to scream out in desperation "i'll always love you, andrew" before she hit the bottom of a sea of cars – "an instant death to an innocent ten year old" the papers read for many weeks afterwards, whilst her parents fell apart with the loss of both of their children.
the sole regret of the parker children was that their parents lived on, believing it was their fault. the two may have been youthful, but shallow they were not, deep thoughts of destiny filled their minds, and they felt as though they knew exactly what to do, when.
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