Post by Lozzie on Jul 8, 2005 9:47:47 GMT -5
Hey hey! Not posted on here before but thought i would try it out today! I thought i'd give my fan fiction a go with you lot by just posting one of my many one-offs. Let me know what you think! xxx
I can’t go on not loving you.
Turning in her bed the woman clumsily fell to the floor, misjudging where she was in her drunken state. As she hit the floor she felt her stomach twist from the inside, her head throbbed with unbelievable strength as she tried with all her might to sit herself up. She pushed down against the dirty floor on this dingy and unwelcome bed sit that she hadn’t moved from in just over a week. Eventually she managed to get herself into a position where she fell against the side of the bed and let her head hang loosely onto it, the room spun in and out of focus as she stared at the ceiling. Refusing to move her head she simply hung her arms weakly down to her sides and with her hands searched the floor for the vodka bottle she had dropped the night before. As her finger tips touched the glass bottle she closed her eyes with relief and grasped it in her hand before it rolled from reach. Picking it up she clumsily removed the top and then placed it to her lips, the smell invading her nostrils and immediately making her heave with disgust. Still she continued to tip the bottle and let the liquid which resembled something like surgical spirit stream down her throat, burning it as it went.
As she fought hard against the nausea that insisted on tormenting her, she found her mind wandering once again…as it always did when she was awake and even in her sleep. She thought the alcohol would stop it, eventually she thought if she got so drunk and disorientated the memories which haunted her mind would just vanish and leave no trace…but she had no such luck. She downed the entire contents of the glass bottle and then let it slip from her hand and onto the floor with a thump. It hardly made any noise really but it was enough to cause her head to ache further then what it was already. She opened her eyes to try and escape the sight she saw behind her closed eye lids but when she did, the same image stayed imprinted on her mind, refusing to be shifted. An image of that of her husband…and her sister. Until the day she died she would never shift that image, she was sure of nothing…but of that. Tears welled in her eyes as she saw them again, standing in the corner of the Queen Vic, hugging…kissing. The way he held her like he used to hold her, his hand ran through her hair…if she tried hard enough she could still feel him doing it to her, his fingers grazing her forehead as he went.
How could they do it? How could he do it? Her husband…standing in what used to be their home, which they shared together…he stood in the exact place they stood on their wedding day with his arms wrapped around someone else…but not just anyone else. Her sister. The sister she fought to get out of prison, getting herself beaten and bruised by her dirty, wife beating husband…all for her. How many times had she stuck up for her? How could she do it? Her own sister…the woman who had been maid of honour at her wedding, she had helped get them together. All for what? Maybe she planned it from the very beginning. Kat knew it was mad talk which caused that thought to enter her head but at this moment in time she didn’t care…she hated her, she hated him…they could both rot in hell for what they’d done to her. But then again…she loved her, she loved him…more than life itself, she didn’t wish harm upon him, she couldn’t. She’d put herself through hell to keep him safe, facing her own nightmares just to keep him out of harms way and now…it was all for nothing. She’d pushed herself back into a frame of mind she never wanted to see again, turned herself back into a person she thought she buried on her wedding day and all for a man who obviously didn’t love her enough to wait for her return.
The thought of waiting for him had occurred in her mind several times, he knew she was in a bad way when she fled the square after seeing the two of them together. He promised to find her according to her daughter when she’d spoken to her the next day…so where was he? She wasn’t hard to find surely? Maybe her dear sister…his dear lover had convinced him otherwise…let her rot. Maybe they were her words as she watched me being taken away by a black cab, running her hands up my husbands back and around his neck, resting against him like he belonged to her. Well she could pretend…but she’d never have him. She’d never own his heart…that part of him is mine and know one else can even come close. Kat forced herself to sit forward, once again heaving as she felt the alcohol filled vomit making it’s way up her throat but she quickly swallowed and gulped it back, closing her eyes to steady her shaking legs as she clambered to her feet. The room spun out of focus once again as she stood there completely still for a moment, trying to compose herself. Eventually she was steady enough to walk and she stumbled across the room to the table next to the full length mirror. On top of the table stood 5 bottles of unopened vodka…she’d started the week with almost 30 and in just 5 days had got through 25...even she was surprised that she was still standing, any normal person would be dead by now.
She grabbed one of the bottles and turned the lid, hearing it click she pulled it off and smiled a little at still having the strength to do that. She brought up the bottle and placed the top of it securely into her mouth, knocking back her head she gulped down the disgusting liquid, not stopping until she felt her legs give way from beneath her. She ripped the bottle from her mouth just in time before her legs buckled and she fell to the floor, a small laugh escaping her lips in her drunken, alcoholic daze until slowly, she looked up and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror…and soon, the laugh faded and turned into a sob, just as the tears started to flow down her pale cheeks. As she stared into the mirror, her cries filled the room and echoed off of the walls, anger and hatred buried in the very depths of her eyes. No wonder he was with her now…she was good, innocent, trustworthy, loyal…everything she wasn’t and everything she could never be. She was a tart from birth…a girl labelled by 14 as a slapper, a slut, a prostitute. Any name you could think of…that’s what she had.
A man like him could never truly love someone as filthy as her. But she could love him…God she could love him with every beat of her breaking heart, so much so that seeing him without another woman killed her. If she had been stronger, maybe she could have fought for him, shown him how she could change and be the woman he deserved…but she wasn’t. She was weak. Eventually the anger boiled up to a temperature deep inside her gut so extreme that it burst from her in a sudden outcry, grabbing the bottle once more she through the half empty bottle at the mirror, watching as it smashed into millions of tiny pieces, flying towards her…but she didn’t move, she wanted them to get her. Pain her only means of feeling something human. In the same second she grabbed another of the unopened bottles and quickly turned the lid and throwing it to the floor amongst the broken glass, she swigged mouthfuls of the deadly drink that was slowly poisoning her. Grabbing pieces of the glass in her hands she clasped them tightly, gritting her teeth as they dug into her skin…but she was completely numb, it didn’t hurt…it couldn’t. She was already dead inside. Slamming the bottle on the floor she stared down at it, the same picture in her head of Alfie and Little mo, holding one another as if they were made for each other. He was fooling himself…he would soon realise that, he would remember what it was like being with your soul mate…but by then, it would be too late. And then, he would no the meaning to true pain…the pain she had felt the moment his lips met her sisters. As she picked up one of the biggest pieces of glass on the floor, she brought it to her arm and then grabbed the vodka bottle once more, holding it up to the broken mirror she smiled like someone possessed, an evil and unnatural glare in her damaged eyes. “Here’s to you Alfie Moon…may you suffer like I have”. The last words from a broken woman as she swigged more from the bottle then through it against the wall before using the glass that she held tightly in her hand.
I can’t go on not loving you.
Turning in her bed the woman clumsily fell to the floor, misjudging where she was in her drunken state. As she hit the floor she felt her stomach twist from the inside, her head throbbed with unbelievable strength as she tried with all her might to sit herself up. She pushed down against the dirty floor on this dingy and unwelcome bed sit that she hadn’t moved from in just over a week. Eventually she managed to get herself into a position where she fell against the side of the bed and let her head hang loosely onto it, the room spun in and out of focus as she stared at the ceiling. Refusing to move her head she simply hung her arms weakly down to her sides and with her hands searched the floor for the vodka bottle she had dropped the night before. As her finger tips touched the glass bottle she closed her eyes with relief and grasped it in her hand before it rolled from reach. Picking it up she clumsily removed the top and then placed it to her lips, the smell invading her nostrils and immediately making her heave with disgust. Still she continued to tip the bottle and let the liquid which resembled something like surgical spirit stream down her throat, burning it as it went.
As she fought hard against the nausea that insisted on tormenting her, she found her mind wandering once again…as it always did when she was awake and even in her sleep. She thought the alcohol would stop it, eventually she thought if she got so drunk and disorientated the memories which haunted her mind would just vanish and leave no trace…but she had no such luck. She downed the entire contents of the glass bottle and then let it slip from her hand and onto the floor with a thump. It hardly made any noise really but it was enough to cause her head to ache further then what it was already. She opened her eyes to try and escape the sight she saw behind her closed eye lids but when she did, the same image stayed imprinted on her mind, refusing to be shifted. An image of that of her husband…and her sister. Until the day she died she would never shift that image, she was sure of nothing…but of that. Tears welled in her eyes as she saw them again, standing in the corner of the Queen Vic, hugging…kissing. The way he held her like he used to hold her, his hand ran through her hair…if she tried hard enough she could still feel him doing it to her, his fingers grazing her forehead as he went.
How could they do it? How could he do it? Her husband…standing in what used to be their home, which they shared together…he stood in the exact place they stood on their wedding day with his arms wrapped around someone else…but not just anyone else. Her sister. The sister she fought to get out of prison, getting herself beaten and bruised by her dirty, wife beating husband…all for her. How many times had she stuck up for her? How could she do it? Her own sister…the woman who had been maid of honour at her wedding, she had helped get them together. All for what? Maybe she planned it from the very beginning. Kat knew it was mad talk which caused that thought to enter her head but at this moment in time she didn’t care…she hated her, she hated him…they could both rot in hell for what they’d done to her. But then again…she loved her, she loved him…more than life itself, she didn’t wish harm upon him, she couldn’t. She’d put herself through hell to keep him safe, facing her own nightmares just to keep him out of harms way and now…it was all for nothing. She’d pushed herself back into a frame of mind she never wanted to see again, turned herself back into a person she thought she buried on her wedding day and all for a man who obviously didn’t love her enough to wait for her return.
The thought of waiting for him had occurred in her mind several times, he knew she was in a bad way when she fled the square after seeing the two of them together. He promised to find her according to her daughter when she’d spoken to her the next day…so where was he? She wasn’t hard to find surely? Maybe her dear sister…his dear lover had convinced him otherwise…let her rot. Maybe they were her words as she watched me being taken away by a black cab, running her hands up my husbands back and around his neck, resting against him like he belonged to her. Well she could pretend…but she’d never have him. She’d never own his heart…that part of him is mine and know one else can even come close. Kat forced herself to sit forward, once again heaving as she felt the alcohol filled vomit making it’s way up her throat but she quickly swallowed and gulped it back, closing her eyes to steady her shaking legs as she clambered to her feet. The room spun out of focus once again as she stood there completely still for a moment, trying to compose herself. Eventually she was steady enough to walk and she stumbled across the room to the table next to the full length mirror. On top of the table stood 5 bottles of unopened vodka…she’d started the week with almost 30 and in just 5 days had got through 25...even she was surprised that she was still standing, any normal person would be dead by now.
She grabbed one of the bottles and turned the lid, hearing it click she pulled it off and smiled a little at still having the strength to do that. She brought up the bottle and placed the top of it securely into her mouth, knocking back her head she gulped down the disgusting liquid, not stopping until she felt her legs give way from beneath her. She ripped the bottle from her mouth just in time before her legs buckled and she fell to the floor, a small laugh escaping her lips in her drunken, alcoholic daze until slowly, she looked up and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror…and soon, the laugh faded and turned into a sob, just as the tears started to flow down her pale cheeks. As she stared into the mirror, her cries filled the room and echoed off of the walls, anger and hatred buried in the very depths of her eyes. No wonder he was with her now…she was good, innocent, trustworthy, loyal…everything she wasn’t and everything she could never be. She was a tart from birth…a girl labelled by 14 as a slapper, a slut, a prostitute. Any name you could think of…that’s what she had.
A man like him could never truly love someone as filthy as her. But she could love him…God she could love him with every beat of her breaking heart, so much so that seeing him without another woman killed her. If she had been stronger, maybe she could have fought for him, shown him how she could change and be the woman he deserved…but she wasn’t. She was weak. Eventually the anger boiled up to a temperature deep inside her gut so extreme that it burst from her in a sudden outcry, grabbing the bottle once more she through the half empty bottle at the mirror, watching as it smashed into millions of tiny pieces, flying towards her…but she didn’t move, she wanted them to get her. Pain her only means of feeling something human. In the same second she grabbed another of the unopened bottles and quickly turned the lid and throwing it to the floor amongst the broken glass, she swigged mouthfuls of the deadly drink that was slowly poisoning her. Grabbing pieces of the glass in her hands she clasped them tightly, gritting her teeth as they dug into her skin…but she was completely numb, it didn’t hurt…it couldn’t. She was already dead inside. Slamming the bottle on the floor she stared down at it, the same picture in her head of Alfie and Little mo, holding one another as if they were made for each other. He was fooling himself…he would soon realise that, he would remember what it was like being with your soul mate…but by then, it would be too late. And then, he would no the meaning to true pain…the pain she had felt the moment his lips met her sisters. As she picked up one of the biggest pieces of glass on the floor, she brought it to her arm and then grabbed the vodka bottle once more, holding it up to the broken mirror she smiled like someone possessed, an evil and unnatural glare in her damaged eyes. “Here’s to you Alfie Moon…may you suffer like I have”. The last words from a broken woman as she swigged more from the bottle then through it against the wall before using the glass that she held tightly in her hand.
