Some people say that when you kill yourself you're committing a sin---the ultimate sin if you talk to certain people. So, when you sin you go to Hell, right?
I guess not. Unless, this is what mine is.
"I've said I'm sorry, right?" Margo said, lurking around Leon's room. It was so dark, or maybe it only felt that way because she was, well, dead. Nothing was the same, apparently. You don't feel anything---physically, that is. You can't even smell anything. But, maybe that was for the best since she was in Leon's room.
Dark eyes look at him with a certain desperation. He doesn't look the same. He doesn't respond to her words. It wasn't like when they used to fight and he'd ignore her. No. It was different, everything was different. She sighs, hands run through messy hair only to be thrown back at her sides. There's a few seconds of silence on her end ( though that wouldn't have made a difference, anyhow. He couldn't hear her. ), she doesn't even move. She just watches him, sorrowfully. Margo steps closer, finding a place on the bed beside the glum boy. She leans against him, head resting on his shoulder. Nothing.
"I'm still here," She nearly taunted. "Don't think I'm leaving any time soon," She's gotten into the habit of talking to him as if he could hear her. But, still, nothing. It hurt seeing him but not being able to BE with him. No talking, no goofing around like they used to, nothing. So, there she was, stuck at his side. She followed where ever he went, though it's not like he really went anywhere. It stung knowing what she had done to him.
The brunette sat perched atop a desk, elbows lazily propped onto her knees while her posture slumped over. If she could, she would've gone insane by now. No one ever acknowledged her, not even Leon. She had so much time, guilt growing painfully evident within her as she watched him slowly scrape by. "Dammit, Leon... If I could undo this, I would. I didn't mean to hurt you so much, you know how much I loved you. No, fuck that, love. I still love you. I look at you every-damn-day and it hurts so fuckin' much. I can't believe what I've done to you---" Crestfallen words were cut off by a knock at the door. There's a deep sigh before hands rub her own eyes. This was draining. Was this what she deserved? Probably.
It's so strange how time passed without her knowing. For all she knew it could've been an hour---or a single day. But, there was a birthday, a couple of holidays.. Whatever. She didn't care. Nothing was important anymore. It was all about dragging on. If she were alive she would have shamed him for leaving home, for going at life alone and denying anyone that tried to get close. He was still headstrong, which brought the smallest smile to her face at times, how he was still that sixteen year old in need of a damn lighter.
"Your music got so fuckin' good, Leon," She praised with a slight grin. She looks over at him, by now not even pausing for a response because she knew it would never come. "---Not that it wasn't good already. Y'know what I mean. You'll get picked up soon, I'm tellin' you."
She's lost track of time.
She's seen Leon end up in the hospital at least once before, but nothing was like this time... She was there when it happened, she was there when the painfully bright lights of the ambulance flashed ( which felt like a punch in the damn tit with how the way it brought the WORLDS WORST headache and the repressed memories of her own death ), and was there for everything after. Fuck, watching his life crumble was worse than any damn Hell she could've been put in.
Margo sits slumped in a chair near the hospital bed, lips pressed in a straight line as fingers rest on her hairline. She looks at him, all the machines and frankly scary shit all around him. It brings her back to when she slipped from her own body. It made her feel sick and filled her stomach with the most dreadful feeling. She breathes deeply, almost as if she was trying to get someones attention by annoying them with her breaths. He was fucking dying and she couldn't do anything about it. But, trust her, she sure as hell tried just about everything. Yelling, screaming, hitting any doctor that got near him ( which only resulted in her hand going straight through them. ) like a protective guard dog. There was nothing she could do. He was fucking dying and she had to watch. This was Hell.
How fucking long has it been? Fuck.
This was the day, wasn't it? She could feel it, something in her bones or perhaps her non-beating heart. She had watched him grow so much, watched him play so many times, watched him do stupid shit ( like take home random girls, which just resulted in Margo in the furthest chair, plugging her ears and shutting her eyes because---ew? ) and now it was just... Over.
Teeth nervously grind, brows knitting together as eyes timidly scan the ground. Her foot is tapping against the floor, faster and faster. She's been wiping stray tears from the corners of her eyes---she's dead, but she still refuses to be a pansy. So, when something in the air shifts---something in her gut just changes and she simply knows, eyes immediately flicker up to meet him.
Fuck, she wasn't ready for this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Hands that once nervously picked at her own nails dropped, her expression changing to something much... lighter. There's a smile, one that was gentle and almost welcoming. She probably wasn't the first person he'd want to see right now.
She didn't know what to say. She hadn't talked to him in years(?) and now she was finally able to be SEEN and HEARD. She scoffed. "You've... grown up," Margo murmured in disbelief. I mean, she was still the same. 5'3", fifteen, untamed hair; even in death..
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