Post by thenerdherd on Apr 23, 2011 1:13:19 GMT -5
She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't want to listen to their lectures anymore. It was killing her inside, a world without ever seeing Ponyboy was a world without anything. Cherry needed Ponyboy, she loved him. Her parents had taken being forbidden too far, it meant she wasn't to see him at all. This was like some sick twisted joke that had been taken too far.
After that it was all a blur to Cherry. No one had been home and it would be easy. A world without Ponyboy wasn't a world at all. In a daze she made her way down from her bed and to the kitchen, pushing the dimmer up to add a touch of light to the room. There, sitting on the granite counter sat the kitchen knives. Was she really going to go through with this? Her fingers grazed over the handle and a sob choked out from her throat. She was so scared, she was so terrified. She took the knife into her shaking hand and closed her eyes, the quicker she did it the sooner it would be over.
A scream of pain echoed throughout the house before Cherry realized in horror, she didn't want to die. Not yet. The sound of metal clattering to the floor filled the silence as Cherry pressed her hand against the wound. Why had she chickened out last minute? Why hadn't she just pressed the knife in as far as possible and end the life that was torturing her so much?
She needed to say good-bye.
Her feet moved quickly out the door and to her car. His house wasn't too far, she could drive despite her vision going in and out of focus. Her hand, the one that wasn't pressing as hard as she could against the wound, turned in the keys and she drove out of the driveway. "I got to make it to Pony. I got to make it to Pony." she chanted to herself. She needed to see his face again, she needed to fill his lips on hers again. After going so long without seeing him...she needed to be with him. They could have ran away from this, she could have moved to where he lived and dropped out of high school.
Cherry could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead and she rested her head against the steering wheel at a stop light. She was almost there, then Pony could help her. His house came into view a while after, and she closed the door with her hand. Cherry stumbled up the porch steps and knocked on the door with as much strength as she had. She pressed her hand against the wall to keep herself up. The teenager looked down and saw that her right hand was covered in blood, the fabric surrounding the wound also stained a scarlet color. "P-Ponyboy!" she cried out, fear filling her quivering voice. "I-It's me."
After that it was all a blur to Cherry. No one had been home and it would be easy. A world without Ponyboy wasn't a world at all. In a daze she made her way down from her bed and to the kitchen, pushing the dimmer up to add a touch of light to the room. There, sitting on the granite counter sat the kitchen knives. Was she really going to go through with this? Her fingers grazed over the handle and a sob choked out from her throat. She was so scared, she was so terrified. She took the knife into her shaking hand and closed her eyes, the quicker she did it the sooner it would be over.
A scream of pain echoed throughout the house before Cherry realized in horror, she didn't want to die. Not yet. The sound of metal clattering to the floor filled the silence as Cherry pressed her hand against the wound. Why had she chickened out last minute? Why hadn't she just pressed the knife in as far as possible and end the life that was torturing her so much?
She needed to say good-bye.
Her feet moved quickly out the door and to her car. His house wasn't too far, she could drive despite her vision going in and out of focus. Her hand, the one that wasn't pressing as hard as she could against the wound, turned in the keys and she drove out of the driveway. "I got to make it to Pony. I got to make it to Pony." she chanted to herself. She needed to see his face again, she needed to fill his lips on hers again. After going so long without seeing him...she needed to be with him. They could have ran away from this, she could have moved to where he lived and dropped out of high school.
Cherry could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead and she rested her head against the steering wheel at a stop light. She was almost there, then Pony could help her. His house came into view a while after, and she closed the door with her hand. Cherry stumbled up the porch steps and knocked on the door with as much strength as she had. She pressed her hand against the wall to keep herself up. The teenager looked down and saw that her right hand was covered in blood, the fabric surrounding the wound also stained a scarlet color. "P-Ponyboy!" she cried out, fear filling her quivering voice. "I-It's me."
