Realism Fan Fiction / Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Blame ❯ One-Shot

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

She starred at the pen in her hand and looked at the paper before her with expression and thought almost as blank. She knew she had to do it but how could she? How could she pour so much emotion into just words? How could she convey what she felt without ripping her heart from her chest and throwing it at his feet? She also knew she had no choice. It had to be done.

She sat at the desk in her room with her left hand tangled in her fizzing hair and her right hand gripping a pen poised on a sheet of regular ruled binder paper. She had been that way for an hour now. She thought at first that she would have been done by now but how wrong she was.

The floor was littered with discarded beginnings of letters and her face was tear stained but still nothing seemed right. Nothing had since the incident that caused her to be sitting here.

Once again she tried. She wrote Dear but then snatched up the paper and crumpled it into a ball and knocked it to the floor with the others. Sighing she pulled another blank sheet towards her and bit down on the pen.

She tried to gather her thoughts but still there was too much to be said and too little ways to say it and the words screaming in her mind would not let themselves be taken out.

At last she put pen back to paper and wrote:


If I knew how I felt right now I’d tell you but to do so would be more than a lie, it would be sin. I can’t even begin to think how deeply you hurt me but you seem not to care either way but I don’t blame you. I blame myself.

I blame myself for loving you and for believing in you. I blame myself for giving so much to you and mostly, I blame myself for not destroying you when I should have.

You may say that I’m just angry and it will fade but you are only half right this time. This anger will never fade! There was nothing I would not have given for you or to you but you still felt the need to steal from me and to steal ME. Yes, that is what you did though you never liked to be called a thief, that is what you became.

I pity you. Always trying to push yourself ahead of me in everything. Always putting your feelings before mine, using me and making me feel like a worthless rag doll when all along it just so you could feel better about yourself. You treated me like they treated you so you could be in control for once but you never stopped to think how they had made you feel. No! you never did and that kills me! Maybe it killed you too but I'll never know that. Not now.

You deserve every pang of guilt or pain that you feel and my only hope for you is that you suffer a thousand times the anxiety you made me feel. I only wish that you could feel half the shame I felt while lying awake every night thinking of what I allowed you to do to me. I only wish that your soul could scream as tortuously as mine when there’s no one to save you just like every time I lay down under you.

I hated the way you touched me but I never complained. No, I put up with it because I thought I loved you but not now. I just lay there like a good girl and accepted all the hurt you had to offer. I blamed myself for what you did and I still do but only because I allowed it. But now, that time is past and I see my mistakes and I’m going to set things straight once and for all while I still can. This ends tonight and this time I mean it. I won’t listen to your cries and pleads, if there are any. I don’t care anymore.

You made me this way! You made me hard and cold. You made me into what I am and what I never will be. You made me hate you! I hope its what you wanted because it’s what you got.


Her hand shook as she lay the pen down and lifted the paper up so that her desk light shone through it. She folded the paper and walked to the other end of the room, between her bed and the wall. There on the floor, he was lying, peacefully, except for the three bloody holes in his shirt where the fresh crimson fluid spread across the white material.

She stooped beside him and barely noticed her tears falling into the wounds and on his face. It wouldn’t matter anyway. It would all be over soon. She laid the folded paper on his chest away from the blood for now then reached up with her hand and felt on the nightstand. Her fingers gripped something hard and cold and she drew the small hand gun down.
She sat on the floor beside the body and put the cold metal into her mouth. The irony was more than she could bear. Closing her eyes and gripping the gun tightly she squeezed the trigger.
For a split second she panicked then screamed silently in extricating pain. Then it was over like she said and she faded into blackness with her soul smiling, finally free.