Short story for crit
It's been a while since I last wrote of story so my skills are a bit dry at the moment, but here's something that I wrote just the other day. I tried to make it sad since that sad themes are my strong point, so I thought it would be good to start after my long break. I love crits, so don't be afraid to be brutal. Crits are the very reason I'm posting this.
All An Act
Trembling in the freezing, but gentle air, Stacey looked up to the night sky, watching as her stale breaths evaporated in the nearest street light. She sat on her butt as what little warmth seemed to just flow into the concrete, not making a difference. But she only sat there, waiting for the physical pain to dull. The numb wind didn't waste time.
Lifting a needle with a blood stained tip to her exposed arm, Stacey dipped the end into the gooseflesh, hardly feeling a thing. Clenching her teeth as vivid memories came back to her, Stacey pushed the needle in farther as she slowly slid it across her skin. Slowly, she thought to herself, biting her lip as tears started to form again. Let the pain last. At least it wasn't as bad as the mental pain. It was still so difficult to not just slash the whole arm from elbow to wrist. Maybe with some more cuts.
But Stacey worked with the needle like a painter holding a delicate brush to what extent she could, shivering constantly with the breeze. At least the blood was warm when it came out. It used to be so great. When no one would except me; no one wanted to see me. But for one person. He was the one who stopped me for once. The only one who cared. The one who saw me for who I was. Not what I did. So warm to be next to; one whom I could actually embrace. Laugh. Tell funny, even embarrassing stories to. Someone I could believe. A person I wasn't scared of.
Stacey dug harder with the needle, making jagged cuts as she continued to shiver; all the good memories coming in sharper than the needle. She could still remember those nights when she would stay at his place with the television on. It was usually cold at his place, but they would only need each other to keep warm. His warm arm that he would wrap around her.
The cuts stung more as tears fell into them, the salt burning through. Stacey could feel her shoulder get colder; just the thought of leaning against him. The comfort of someone strong and there for you. Now it was just the wind, drifting in with the cold, passing right through her thin clothes.
Gasping with the tears still falling almost frozen from her eyes, Stacey dropped the needle. It wasn't enough anymore. She couldn't live like this any longer. Not anymore. Blinded with tears, Stacey groped for the gun laying just beside her. Before placing it between her teeth, Stacey took a final look at her cut up arm, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. A word was barely noticeable in the bloody mess, and even though half blinded by her tears, Stacey could still make out that one word. "Raped."
Last edited by brain132; 12-18-2012 at 10:39 PM.