Short Stories
Running Water
A swift rap on the door cut through the haze in Analeigh’s mind, pulling her back into reality from some unknown dream.
“Ana, please tell me what is wrong, tell me why you have locked yourself in the bathroom. Don’t make me do something rash, like break down the door.” A voice, quiet but full of emotion, spoke, his voice barely audible over the running water.
A sense of recognition overtook her features and quietly she whispered his name, allowing the thought of him to overwhelm her, “Cameron.”
The next few moments passed in what felt like an eternity. She saw the door fall open, she saw in his face the worry of finding her sitting underneath the running shower, fully clothed. And she saw his relief at finding her alive. And as she lost consciousness she felt him press his lips to her cheek.
She was awakened by a scream of pain, her own. Cameron was gripping on her arms, trying to pull her out of the shower. He glanced down to see that her arms had been slit from wrist to shoulder in one perfectly straight line. His hands now covered in blood he shifted his grip so that he was holding her in his arms, one arm hooked around her legs and the other trying to still her arms.
He placed her on the countertop and, trying to shush her small gasps of pain, began to search through the drawers for bandages. Tears poured down her face endlessly when he began to slowly wrap the delicate white bandages around each of her arms. When he had finished he looked at her and spoke in a whisper, “Why?”
After a long, terrified, pause she spoke to him, “They told me that I was unlovable to …” the end of her sentence was cut off by him pressing his lips to hers.
“Ana, please tell me what is wrong, tell me why you have locked yourself in the bathroom. Don’t make me do something rash, like break down the door.” A voice, quiet but full of emotion, spoke, his voice barely audible over the running water.
A sense of recognition overtook her features and quietly she whispered his name, allowing the thought of him to overwhelm her, “Cameron.”
The next few moments passed in what felt like an eternity. She saw the door fall open, she saw in his face the worry of finding her sitting underneath the running shower, fully clothed. And she saw his relief at finding her alive. And as she lost consciousness she felt him press his lips to her cheek.
She was awakened by a scream of pain, her own. Cameron was gripping on her arms, trying to pull her out of the shower. He glanced down to see that her arms had been slit from wrist to shoulder in one perfectly straight line. His hands now covered in blood he shifted his grip so that he was holding her in his arms, one arm hooked around her legs and the other trying to still her arms.
He placed her on the countertop and, trying to shush her small gasps of pain, began to search through the drawers for bandages. Tears poured down her face endlessly when he began to slowly wrap the delicate white bandages around each of her arms. When he had finished he looked at her and spoke in a whisper, “Why?”
After a long, terrified, pause she spoke to him, “They told me that I was unlovable to …” the end of her sentence was cut off by him pressing his lips to hers.
Still Water
Analeigh could feel the grayness tugging at the corners of her vision as she sank beneath the surface of the icy blue water. Her reluctance to give into it faded with each air bubble that passed between her slowly bluing lips.
As she came to rest on the sandy ocean floor and prepared to welcome the gray in its entirety she felt a pair of hands take her by the waist and begin to swim in the general direction of the shore. She opened her eyes and, through the haze of gray and the blue tint the water gave her vision, saw one of the few people she knew would worry about her decision, and then she gave up.
He laid her weak, unconscious, body on the sand delicately. He took off her poorly made restraints; the ones made to assure she not accidentally save herself, and checked the bandages that he himself had put on her arms. He sat down, pulling her to him in the process, and began to try and wake her up.
She could feel his arms around her, feel his tears running off his face and onto hers, hear him whispering her name, and she tried to come back for him. She began to fight against death, to fight to keep him with her.
As she stirred from her “sleep” she could feel him start to move away and she struggled to string the thoughts together that were necessary to tell him to stay close, “…want… you… stay…”
Cameron spoke softly into her ear, “Don’t worry hun, I will stay close. But please tell me why.”
She pulled herself up into a sitting position and frailly wrapped her arms around him; she struggled to get the words out, “When was the last time you held me this close?” He knew perfectly well when and he could do nothing to stop the tears from running down her face.
As she came to rest on the sandy ocean floor and prepared to welcome the gray in its entirety she felt a pair of hands take her by the waist and begin to swim in the general direction of the shore. She opened her eyes and, through the haze of gray and the blue tint the water gave her vision, saw one of the few people she knew would worry about her decision, and then she gave up.
He laid her weak, unconscious, body on the sand delicately. He took off her poorly made restraints; the ones made to assure she not accidentally save herself, and checked the bandages that he himself had put on her arms. He sat down, pulling her to him in the process, and began to try and wake her up.
She could feel his arms around her, feel his tears running off his face and onto hers, hear him whispering her name, and she tried to come back for him. She began to fight against death, to fight to keep him with her.
As she stirred from her “sleep” she could feel him start to move away and she struggled to string the thoughts together that were necessary to tell him to stay close, “…want… you… stay…”
Cameron spoke softly into her ear, “Don’t worry hun, I will stay close. But please tell me why.”
She pulled herself up into a sitting position and frailly wrapped her arms around him; she struggled to get the words out, “When was the last time you held me this close?” He knew perfectly well when and he could do nothing to stop the tears from running down her face.
