Numb

Andy's POV:

Before any of us could register hat exactly we saw, Ash collapsed onto his knees, shouting and crying at the sight in front of us.

I feel like if I wasn't already numb, I would've reacted similar, maybe even worse. Hell, I loved the girl, and the sight before us... Nothing could ever erase the gruesome image from my mind. It was permanently scarred there, forever.

Jinxx sucked in a sharp breath, clutching onto the door frame for support. Jake bent down and attempted t pull Ash into a standing position, though I knew he also wanted to shield his eyes from the horrid scene before us, something right out of a horror movie. CC had yet to make a sound, it seemed as though he had stopped breathing, but then his knees buckled, and he crashed against the wall, the noise echoing though the surprisingly silent house. I stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. My mind was screaming at me to look away, but at the same time, I needed this. To see the girl I loved, maybe even one last time. But that's just the thing, I couldn't see her. She was hidden by a mass of self-destruction, and all I saw was the hollow, broken fragments of the girl I loved. And honestly, that was worse.

No, I realized, nothing was worse than this.

Blood was everywhere. The mall glimpses of sunlight streaming past the closed blinds illuminated the crimson stains, making it seem even more real, yet at the same time, I feel as though this was just some gruesome scene in a horror flick. I begged for my eyes to be wrong, for this to simply be a unusual and very vivid figment of my imagination, but it was.'t. I knew, deep down, that it wasn't.

Her room was bathed in complete and utter darkness, with small streaks of light filtering past her shut blinds. Clothes and blankets were tossed everywhere, all stained with the thick, scarlet liquid. Glass from photo frames and a lone glass vase scattered the floor. The dead flowers that used to occupy the smashed vase were left beside the knocked over dresser, the fragile petals crumbling at the abuse. Across the lavender walls that used to hold several photos and paintings, was print after print of bloody hands. And then, when I thought I had seen the worst of the damage, I saw her, or what i thought was her, and my heart momentarily stopped.

She was loosely dresses in a once white, fitted tank top and a pair of black spandex shorts. Her usual soft and beautiful hair was mated and tangled, the day strands hanging across her hollowed face. She was lying on her side at the edge of her bed, one of her arms hanging off the furniture, her ebony hair pooling at the floor. Her face was partly hidden by her mask of dark waves, but you could still see how utterly terrified she was. And that almost broke my heart more than her appearance. Almost.

Her wrist were both slit up and down her arms, each of the main veins leaking ocher blood, stinging the fabric below. Her exposed legs were covered in angry, blotchy, makes, along with what appeared to be burn marks. The tops of her thighs were lined with red cuts, all rimmed with a darker red. Even her neck was slit, not deep enough, but a steady stream of blood still pooled from the undoubtedly fresh cut. The worst was her face. Her green eyes were dull and lifeless. Her eyelids widened so that you could practically see her entire eye balls. Her green orbs threatened to pop out to her eyes sockets. Her porcelain face was streaked with a horrible mixture of blood and black smudges, makeup, I presumed. Dingoes scratches marked her sunken cheeks, done by her overly long, black painted nails. Her lips were dried and agape in a silent scream that she never made.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was at her bedside, sweeping back her dark locks as silent tears licked my face. I pressed my lips to her forehead before I broke down.

I was barely aware of the paramedics taking her away until she was gone.

The end.

Notes

That's the end, not all stories end happily, and this one, just didn't.

I tried to make the scene as realistic and gruesome as I could, because I feel like the guys never really noticed how broken she was, and now that she's gone, well, they needed to know. Smiles can be faked.

I love you all, and I'm not religious, but I hope to whatever divine being there is that none of you ever go through what Courtney did.

I love you all,

xoxo
Yasmin