Why don't we just say it already?' He smirked. 'I mean come on now.' I eyed him carefully not knowing where to step. 'What is it you think we want to say?' 'That we love each other. I kick myself every time I stopped myself from saying it. And I know you love me and that's all that matters, ' he said, pulling me close instead of away this time. We stared at the water in a shared silence. My mind wished I could say the same thing, but knowing if I wanted to was the problem. Did I even know how?
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He pulled the gun from his waist, running it along my cheek and back down to my lips. I blinked back the tears at sick game. He finally stopped the gun at my temple, my pulse fighting against the pressure of the cold metal of the gun. 'Do you think you are a good person, Kendall?' 'No, not at all, ' I said, swallowing down the misery of my honest answer. 'Really?' he asked, one eyebrow lifting in confusion. 'Are you afraid to die?' I wished I could spit in his face for making everything so hard. I wished he would just pull the trigger and end it already. But a small part of me was begging and pleading internally that he wouldn't shoot me. 'No, I'm not afraid to die, ' I admitted, I closed my eyes and the tears fell quickly. 'I'm not afraid of much in life. I've seen too much to be scared.' He let out a sigh. I opened my eyes. He pulled the gun away from me. 'Well, damn. How the hell am I supposed to kill someone so miserable?' I looked away. Even in death I was pitiful.
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Death is around everyone's corner, people try to run and hide from it, but it al-ways catches up with them. Like a bad scene from a horror movie. Death stalks you like a lion, waiting for just the right moment to attack. You can run but sooner or later you'll trip and death will devour you. Did anyone know the secret to outrun death? No one that lived to tell about it, that's saying something right?
Yeah, I was just curious. I concentrated on my footsteps. Yeah, well, next time you think about stepping into rock concerts you might want to bring a bodyguard. I stopped and turned around. I brought my hands to my hips, a bit offended. What is that supposed to mean? He dropped the end of the bat into the sand. It means your small.
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Sam studied his brother. At one time he thought Frankie had a good head on his shoulders. Sure, he had a temper. And he was conceited. But he always used common sense. But now he wasn't so sure if that were true. He had brought him his lifeless fiance. Like a dog dragging in a dead rabbit looking for praise.
You're maybe eighteen. Your mother didn't love you enough so you decided to pierce your lip and brand your body to piss her off. You hang around this band because they make you feel like you belong. And most days you wish you were in a band of your own, but you know that probably will never happen." I met his eyes waiting. I'm twenty. my mother has an assload of tattoos herself, she thinks its art. I have a lip ring because it turns girls on when I do this." He licked his lip, lingering on the metal for a couple intense seconds. My eyes fluttered with nervousness.
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Have you ever felt happy and miserable at the same time?' I sighed. 'Yes.' Hutch sat up. He threw the covers back and got out of bed. He opened up the blinds sending rays of bright sunlight into his room. 'But I got over it. I figured out no matter how much I worried about it nothing ever changed.