Cliche

Cliché

         A sigh, my sigh condensed in the cool air before evaporating into oblivion. The noise, it was unbearable. Her giggles, his compliments, contently taunting me until I’m on the brink on my sanity. “Just go away, leave me alone with my music and these voices,” I mumble softly into the darkness of my room.
         “And every single day I'm falling down I never want to say you're mine right now a tear rolls down your cheek and hits the ground I'm falling down.” They sing in my ears, teasing me with witty words of hidden love.
         “If only he knew how much I really cared.” How many times I’d whispered those words into existence was unknown to me, but I both waited and dreaded the day he finally knew; if he even would come to know the truth. The girls squeal startled me, but not as much as her rushing in her with a flushed, triumphed face.          “Ha, Loser, see he doesn’t love you. Ha, he’s marrying me.” She exclaimed, her eyes proud. Andy stood there, confusion flood his face. “Come on babe,” Ann sneered, turning around.
         “What does she mean?” he whispered, being drug away.
         I hung my head, my feet coming together and forming a diamond. “I love you too.” I answered softly. My reason to live was out of reach, it’d been pulled away. I stood, walking to the bathroom and returning with a bottle of potassium cyanide I used to clean the bathroom. Oh, how cliché, I was suddenly reminded of the My Chemical Romance song Cemetery Drive. Despite my slight distaste in my method of death, I ingested the lethal substance. I shut my eyes and lay down, letting silence slip in around me.

Later That Night

         He slipped into her room, glancing back cautiously. Andy kneeled down next to his friends’ bed and sighed ever so softly. His eyes skimmed her seemingly lifeless body; he waited, watching to see if her chest moved. “Becca?” he questioned softly. He shook her lightly, finding her to be on the brink of death. In hast he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. “Hello” he said, “My friend, she’s not breathing.”
         “Sir, calm down. We’ll be there in five minutes.” A monotone woman said.
         “Okay.” He said softly, lifting Becca’s limp body and discovering the empty bottle of potassium cyanide. “Shit.” He cursed, pulling her out of the house. The EMT’s lifted her into the truck and out to the hospital.

That night at 11:37 pm Becca Labelle died. Cause of death was an over dose of potassium cyanide. Three months later, a month from his wedding, Andy Marks killed himself, after finding out that this could have prevented, the word “I love you Becca was scratched into his arms and tears stained his cheeks.. Ann Lockk was left alone...