Vasto Grom

(01/19/1990 / Houston, TX)

And all I know is no more (Part 1)


As I sat there on the bench, the last drops of life falling from me. I found myself wondering why I felt this way. The cold winter winds whip past me but I didn't feel its chill, for I was already freezing. I gripped the small, black blade tightly in my left hand as I slowly raised the.357 revolver I held in my right. As the end of the cool steel barrel pressed softly to my temple I felt tears roll down my cheek. I never wanted this to happen but it was never my choice to make. It had all gone so horribly wrong, and after keeping it all together for so many years. Ever since I was little I've been lying about what I really felt. For nearly 15 years I've lied and no one ever suspected a thing. So why? Why now? Why after all these years did my web of lies come crashing down now? My hand began to shake gently as I pulled back the hammer on the revolver. I felt my stomach grow colder as the blood pours from the gash in my abdomen. The blood has now begun to puddle at my feet and I can barely hear the alarm blaring. If I was to die, I would die here were everything fell apart. My eyes slowly rolled around, taking in the area where I had lunch with my friends for nearly 2 years now. Then the fell on the bench in front of me where the negotiator was sitting. Where she had been sitting when I told her the truth and how the end of my once decent life came to pass. I could no longer see the beautiful young lady who the police had sent in to calm me down and hopefully end this horrible situation. All I could see now was her face, the face of the girl I cared so much for. So much that I could no longer stomach telling her the lies that spilled from me like an all consuming poison. I had only known her for less than a year but I had come to love her and even though I could have continued weaving my web of lies to everyone else, even my parents. I couldn't, not to her. She didn't take the truth very well, understandably. But what she did made it so much worse, made it impossible to go on. She called the police that night and when the officer came to take me to the hospital I wouldn't allow it. I escaped to my car with my father's revolver and my combat knife. I found myself driving anywhere hoping the answer to my dilema would just come to me and it did. I drove to where it all went wrong, my high school. I broke in and knowing the police would be there soon I stabbed myself repeatedly in my stomach with my knife and used my dark trench coat to hide it. The police soon came along with the woman now sitting before me. She was dressed in a very nice black dress and matching coat. I apologized upon her arrival seeing that I must have ruined a good evening for her. She simply smiled and said that she'd rather be here in the cold with me than at the opera with her snob of a date. We spoke small chit chat for a bit until she finally asked me the big question. Why? And so since I felt my life slowly fading away I told her everything even things that never needed to be heard. At some point in time I must have started crying because the woman got up, sat down next to me, and began wiping my cheeks. I had never felt so good as I did when I could tell her anything and I began to wish I hadn't shredded my insides. But now after many hours of talking with this sweet woman out in the cold I felt myself finally fading away. What she at first thought was sleep deprivation setting in soon changed as she gently touched my left hand which was deathly cold and still covered in blood. Her eyes got wide as the realization of the situation struck her. I looked her in her soft, green eyes and whispered softly that I was sorry and that this time I spent had been blessed to spend with her was truly one of the brightest moments in my life and that I would always treasure it. She looked at me and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. I dropped the revolver and gently wiped away her eyes and as I took my last breath she held me close and she whispered softly to me 'I won't let you die on me'.

Submitted: Sunday, November 20, 2011
Edited: Friday, July 19, 2013

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