Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ A Life Gone Wrong ❯ A Life Gone Wrong ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Author’s Note: So this one-shot is just some scrabble that I wrote for my English class last year. I wasn’t going to post it but I got bored and I decided to go ahead and do it. It’s REALLY short, and I’m sorry for that. Yet I hope you like it, but I don’t expect much from it. It is pretty crappy writing after all. But please comment if you want, though I hope you would.

“Matt!!” My lover’s voice reverberate, her eyes enlarged as her beautiful face slackened in utter horror.

A hard sound came out of the hallway, the sound of something dropping on the floor, a blunt object or something along those lines. Yet the echo was cut short when my head split in unimaginable amount of agony, like the feeling of my bear skull being ripped open.

It was followed by a remote sound of heavy screaming and sobbing, yet it was so vague and faint it was as almost as if it was non-existing. My eyes automatically slid closed, a grimace in my face as my body went numb, losing feeling in a total shockwave. The cold marble of the floor felt strangely soft when I dropped on the ground, time seeming to stop.

Warm blood oozed down my face and neck, drenching my hair, the floor. I smelled the metallic scent of blood over the wooden floor, my hand automatically going over the wound to try and stem the flow. My breathing became softer, my chest bearlying making a breath as I felt the darkness taking me over.

Great, I really to go out with a bang, don't I?!

Everyone says that before one dies they see there life flash before their eyes. I think there’s an exception for me since all that played in my mind that moment was my wife holding a slivery firearm in her hands, black, mascara run tears streaking down her face.

For some love is everlasting, filling your life with happiness and joy. I commemorate those people for they can accomplish something I tried so desperately to withhold.

When I met my wife, we were mere children and marriage was the farthest thing from my mind. She was a friend, the loveable tom-boy with a caring heart and a hot best friend. I wasn’t the nearest bit attracted to her.

Her best friend on the other hand was the object of my affection. She was girly, overly talkative, and easily annoyed, which made me love her even more.

She was everything I wasn’t, and I can’t remember a single conversation we had that didn’t end up with us being at each other’s throat.

I was never a man of much words, but more of action. So to show my true colors to her I did what any twelve-year-old boy would do in a situation like mine…bug the living heck out of her. I’d steal her large hat, running around with it across the fields while she in a pitiful attempt to retrieve her belonging chased me, stumbling and huffing in exhaustion. I gave a wolf-like smirk knowing my male genes were evidently faster and more athletic than her weak girly ones.

Various of times when she wasn’t looking I’d pull her long skirt over her head, making her reveal her underwear to anyone in a ten feet radius. Her teary eyes and glowing face was more than any trophy could offer to my pride, as I give her my now infamous smirk.

Once I even went so far as sneaking into her pretty rose colored room and decapitating every single one of her dolls and teddy bears. And for her to realize the genius behind the evil scheme I wrote with her very own pink lipstick “Matt Was Here” on the ivory vanity mirror located right beside her bed.

My to-be wife called my house that night, stating I had gone too far, and demanded I apologized to her. Scoffing, I hung up the phone. In my own sick and twisted little head I actually believed my feelings of love were clearly evident with the torture I was causing her, and with it she would love me back, but alas she didn’t exactly see it that way.

The day after, in school I approached my wife to-be best friend, giving her a smug smirk and commenting about how I left her room. My smirk widen when she slug her head for what I presumed was shame but that smile quickly washed away when my love went to me and slapped me across the face, her cute little face redden but not from embarrassment like usual but from anger. I stood there in utter shock that she had muster the strength to hit me, my hand placed on the bruised cheek. Ooo’s and similar childish noises came from student onlookers as she berated me, screaming she never wanted to see my face again.

She wasn’t in love with me. How could she be?! I constantly bullied her, and kicked her self-esteem to the dirt. The cruel realization of the matter was she hated me.

I was so low that day I skipped school and headed home. At that time my dad worked all day and practically all night so I could get away with murder. My parents are divorced so my mother was not a problem I had to deal with.

My wife to-be came to my home later in the day, hearing about the “fight” I had with her best friend.

“You okay Matt?”

“I don’t think so Sora.” I groaned forlornly, Sora rubbing my back in endeavor to make me feel better. “But thanks for caring.”

“No problem Yama. I’d do anything for you.” She chirped, beaming me a sweet grin. She’s not her best friend, but that doesn’t mean she was ugly, actually her face wasn’t that bad.

“You know Sora you have a nice face. You should try dressing more like a girl, then after that your face won’t be the only thing that’s good-looking.” I let out coolly, my eyes fixed on the glossy oak, positioned right in back of her head. Her cheek turn a bright pink color, and her movement altered from relax to uneasy and jerky. Her bodily shifted in a perturbed manner, and hands fidgeting with the side of her denim jean.

“You really think my face is nice?” She inquired meekly, discernibly not being use to the complement. I gave her a loop-sided smirk, shamelessly cupping one of her cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re pretty.”

It wasn’t long after that moment that Sora and I started dating. Sora apparently was in love with me when we first went out while I was just tired of being alone and wanted someone that could identify with me. And Sora was just the girl to do that. She was very much like me, she was sweet and safe.

The absolute contrasting of her best friend. Its funny how great friends they are yet when you look at both at them they are just not compatible. I vaguely wondered what a pink-loving girly girl and a sport enthuse tomboy ever talked about.

That conversation sure would be interesting.

Sora sure made weird friendships. And an even weirder relationship. What was so weird about us? We were too normal. We never fought, never got angry, and never really had any problems in our relationship. Everything was so sickenly perfect.

We were so perfect that we never broke-up once in our whole whooping ten-year relationship, even if the candle in us burned out the first year of dating. Thinking of it now we really should have never gotten married. Did we not realize we were just so wrong for each other? Or did our fear of being alone for the first time after all those years together just get too overwhelmingly terrorizing?

Love is nothing without passion. I had to learn that the hard way. The really really really hard way.

I had gotten the passion I desired so profoundly, the only thing was that it wasn’t with my wife.

Ever since my wife’s best friend publicly humiliated me in front of the whole school, we tired our best to stay out of each other’s way. And with many years of experience we just got better at it. The only time we were forced to communicate with each other was at the wedding, her being named my wife’s maid of honor.

Sora thought this was silly and arranged for us to have dinner together. There I couldn’t help narrowing my eyes in hatred. She was sure a crafty woman. It was bad enough she ridiculously beautiful, but she had the audacity to sport a short sexy black dress. And to top everything off she didn’t glare back at me. She was being nice! How was I expected to control myself. Oh right….morals.

She made interesting small talk, and ceaselessly gave me one of those smiles that could lighten up the darkest pits of hell. She made me nervous and excited, happy and thrilled, and made my blood pump viciously through my veins.

These feelings were so new to me, I was an infant opening his eyes for the first time.

And at the end dinner when she requested my company in another day, I took the opportunity quickly.

We met again and again and again, her apparently being as interested in me as I was with her. It was funny how things worked, since she was so different from me, but strangely that made me want to know even more about her. She fascinated me.

On one of times we were enjoying our company, she asked if I wanted to go back to her place to watch the Spiderman cartoons we both loved. Innocently enough I nodded my head and in less than an hour we were laying down on her living room floor, eyes glued to the screen.

“I never liked M.J.” She admitted to me, popping a hearty amount of popcorn in her mouth. One eyebrow arched upwards at her comment.

“What are you talking about? Mary Jane is what keeps Peter going.”“I don’t know about that Matt. I think Peter is better off without her.”

“You’re crazy woman.” I teased her, throwing a handful of popcorn at her.

“Yamato, don’t throw food!” A sly smirk formed at my lips. I went closer to her, my fingers tickling at her sides. She jerked and twitched her body, trying to get away from the person producing these humorist feelings .

“What are you doing?!” She voiced between her fits and giggles and laughter.

“Oh you said not to throw food. You said nothing about tickling you.”

“Please, please stop this. I can- I can’t breathe.”

“Nope, I’m having fun with this.” Her laughter was excessive, and body wiggled and squirmed trying to push me off. I got an even greater kick out of her body’s reaction and moved closer for better access to play with her neck But me being me clumsily missed a step and landed right on top of her, my face dangerously close to hers. Heat filled my face as nothing but her came to mind. Not my wife, not my wedding vows, nothing. I closed the space between us, placing more passion and love into that kiss then any other I ever had with my wife.

And from there on, I had cheated on my wife…and continued to do so. Every Saturday night we would meet in out secret engagement, just wanting to be in each others company. I just needing to be with her. The week seemed to be going forever and when we finally reached Saturday it ended in the blink of an eye. To keep each other in mind and heart we would write love notes, declaring our undying affections towards one another.

Life was bliss.

After a month of this we decided we wanted to leave together, go on our own escape. Leave off to a paradise land of blue skies and champagne rivers…Or as we liked to call it Miami. That night, the night we were going to leave off towards our dreams my life ended. We both were getting ready to leave my home, suitcase in hand, goodbye letter written and car running outside when I heard an odd noise coming from the library. Both moving towards the noise, I was to find my wife holding a gun to my face, the hurt and cold look in her eyes killing me.

“Sora honey, what are you doing?” I laughed in a shaky voice, my heart falling to the pit of my stomach, cold sweat wetting my face.

“What I’ve should have done a long time ago. I know you and the tramp of my ex-best friend are together.”

“No Sora, it’s not like that. We’re in love.” My lover pleaded, tears forming at her hazel beauties.

“SHUTUP!! I’ve read all the letters Mimi, don’t try and weasel your way out of this. Out of all the men you could have had you picked my husband. I hate you!!”

“That’s enough Sora. Stop this, just put the gun down an-”

Boom.

For some love is everlasting, filling your life with happiness and joy. For others love just fades away, making you wonder if it was ever there. And for many, love is found at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

Goodbye love.

FIN


A/N: Okay so the one-shot ended. Blah. Please review.