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"Why?"Written By: Emerald Pillow Pairings: 3+? Warnings: Angst, attempted suicide. Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, but you can
try to sue me, but all you'll get is a cat with a half mask like Trowa
(But, her name is Duo...)
Why? It's been six months since Mariemaya has cut her puppet
strings and started living the way she should. It felt more like six
years. I watched emotionlessly as the older man left my trailer. .
.left me naked, unsatisfied, and alone. He got what he wanted from
me, so staying was meaningless. He wasn't the only one I gave myself
to, I did the same to anyone who wanted me; aside for the one coworker
that was ignorant to the fact that I was a whore. I didn't care. I
didn't care who took me or what they did to my body. I already served
my purpose, there was no longer a need for me; yet I still continue
to live. Without the war, this was the only way I could exist. I don't know why I'm allowing myself to keep going.
When I returned to the circus this last time, I had returned even
more leaden and listless than when I first arrived. I disentangled
myself from the other stars as much as I possibly could. I didn't
want anything to do with them. The only person I wanted, I couldn't
have. I couldn't have him, because I didn't deserve him. True, we
had a lot in common; we were both killers. Only I was worse. I wasn't
just a killer of soldiers, but a killer of: the ones that trained
me; innocence; myself; and my heart. I sat up straight on my bed and curled into a tight
ball as I thought of him. He came to see my performance yesterday.
I was surprised that he did. I thought he only showed because he wanted
something. . .much like everyone else in my life. . .but he didn't.
He rejected me; claiming that he didn't want that from me. I knew
I wasn't good enough to stay at his side, but I wasn't even worthy
to please him. He tried to explain, but I pushed him away. I don't
know why I did that. I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him to stay.
I don't understand what he does to me every time he is near. I don't
understand what I feel toward him, or why I even feel anything; but
seeing him yesterday hurt. It hurt worse than any wound I've ever
received. Seeing him made me feel as if life was playing games with
me by giving me a taste of what I never could have. Ever since yesterday I've been hurting. I wanted it
to stop. I tried shutting off my feelings, but it was too strong.
I started crying harder than I ever had before. The tears streamed
down my cheeks as if they would never stop. I have tried to stop thinking
about him, but I can't. I wanted him too badly; and it hurt because
I knew he didn't want me. I can't take this. I pushed from the bed
and barricade the door. I picked up a knife from the vanity. Catherine
had left them there with intentions of sharpening them in the morning,
but after testing the tip, I realize that they were sharp enough for
my purpose. Without hesitating, I sat cross legged in the middle
of the room and slit my wrist. Not the wimpy single slice, but I cut
myself three times. The first three were horizontal, starting at the
top of my wrist, with less than a inch between each incision. I then
added a fourth slash going vertically down the center of the three
pervious ones. I did the same to my other wrist and watched the blood
start seeping from the wounds. I tried to take my mind from him by
thinking about death and how I should have went through with my plan
of self destructing. I didn't play that big of a role in the war.
I've been expendable my whole life. . .but he hasn't. If it wasn't
for him, the war never would have end. I wasn't really thinking as I stood up and began to
write his name on my wall in the blood draining from my wrist. Once
I noticed what I done; once wasn't enough. I continue to write his
name over and over. I wanted him to know that in my dying breath,
I was thinking of him. I know he would never learn of this; and why
would he care any ways? I was nothing to him. With every letter that
came from my life, I told myself why I wasn't good enough for him.
. .why I didn't deserve him. . .why he deserved better. . .why he
wouldn't want me. The tears came more rapidly as I became lightheaded
from the lack of blood. I kept writing; until I was ready to pass
out. It was when I fell to my knees in the middle of the room that
I heard the pounding on the door. They finally broke through as I collapsed to the ground. In a instant, Catherine was hovering over me, trying to wrap my wounds and stop them from bleeding. I wanted to struggle against her, but I was too weak. There must have been about four liters of blood decorating
my room. They were surprised and sicken by what I had done. I heard
Manager say 'Oh dear Lord' before calling an ambulance on his cell
phone. "Trowa, stay with me." Catherine encouraged, but I turned from her. Why should I stay? "Trowa, don't close your eyes. Stay awake. Trowa! Please!" I allowed my tear-filled eyes to do what she didn't want. Why shouldn't I? Why couldn't I be with him? Why did he reject me? Why wasn't I good enough? It wasn't my fault. I didn't ask for my life to be as messed up as it was. I didn't want this. All I ever wanted was him; to hold him; to kiss him; to be with him. Why couldn't he love me the way I loved him? "Trowa, don't give up. Please, don't give up?" Why? ~ * ~ Chapter |
