|Jesus Lives in Colorado (standard:Psychological fiction, 4768 words)|
|Author: echoesmyron||Added: Jan 07 2005||Views/Reads: 1733/1077||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|After his girlfriend's suicide, a man contemplates his own life.|
Jesus Lives in Colorado She had ended her life in the same fashion that she had lived it, quietly. Gathering a clean bath towel and a magazine, she walked towards the bathroom. Blowing a kiss to her boyfriend just as she was closing the bathroom door. The water was flowing at a fast pace and felt to be just the right temperature. She undressed and lowered herself into the tub. It was an old claw foot tub; she had chosen the house almost specifically for the old bathtub. The razor that she used to shave her legs was overlooked for her boyfriend's razor instead. He wholeheartedly believed that the best shave could only be achieved with a straight razor, the kind that one would imagine old barbershops used in a long ago, forgotten time. She had always assumed that her boyfriend used the razor because of his fascination with things that were not modern. Even the computerized self-checkout at the supermarket imposed a certain degree of paranoia in him. She thought that he was just silly, although she admitted to herself that sometimes he made perfect sense in his unwillingness to accept new things. She had recently found herself unwilling to accept new things. Opening the razor forced her to think about her boyfriend and smile. She stared at the razor for a short while. She made up her mind and slowly, but forcefully slid the blade against her right wrist. The pain was not as bad as she imagined that it would be. Realizing that it was easier than she thought, she proceeded to slice the left wrist in the same manor that she had sliced the right one. A momentary feeling of accomplishment swept over her followed by dizziness and the uncontrollable urge to drift off to sleep. She didn't fight her fatigue and instead settled down into the tub until her head gave into the force of gravity and the welcomed pull of the water. Looking up from under the water towards the ceiling was the last thing she saw. It had been a month since he had found his girlfriend in a bathtub filled with her own blood, and it had admittedly left quite an impression on his fragile mind. The first thing that he noticed about her was the serene expression on her lifeless face. A lot of his time was spent on questioning her motives, and the police who had arrived on the scene had even questioned his for a moment. He was cleared as a suspect almost immediately, but he still remembered the way that the officers glared at him when they first entered the bathroom to find him soaked in her blood and bathwater while he was cradling her body like an infant. It was shock that caused him to act that way. "Anyone would do the same thing", he thought to himself. He was just trying to save her; He had no way of rationalizing that she was already gone. He had just seen her two hours before. She even blew him a kiss. Now he was alone in the world, that's how they had become so close. Aside from each other, they were both alone. They had shared an understanding and familiarity with each other as if they were two parts of one person. Now all of that was gone and he would live or die, he felt as if he couldn't control either option. The grief that he felt was unbearable and he cried daily. For the most part crying and drinking had occupied the past month of his life. Despair had seemed to settle around him and soak into his pores; he couldn't scrub it off of himself if he had tried. If one thing was certain, he had tried. He had stopped working the day after it happened and never went back. He would never go back. Working was for the living, and he felt as good as dead. The one thing besides her actual death that was a mystery to him was why she had shown no visible signs that she was planning to kill herself. Why would she hurt herself? Especially the way that she had chosen to do it. She was terrified of needles and had no tolerance for pain of any sort. If anything, she was over cautious when dealing with situations where pain could be a possibility. Perhaps she had gained that quality by spending so much time with him. He hated doctor visits and was terrified of even having blood drawn. Unlike her, he did not trust people and thought that the majority of those around him were inherently bad. Or at least they thought bad things and would not hesitate in doing bad things to others if the chance should present itself. He knew that he was a little crazy but he figured that everyone was in one way or another. She, on the other hand had always been over trusting and outgoing to strangers. He had given up the house soon after the incident and it was put on the Click here to read the rest of this story (346 more lines)
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