You believed him-One shot

May 14, 2006 18:16

Alright, this is a one shot story, that sucks so hardcore. I wrote it a few months ago, and I deffinatly think it sucks.

He couldn't get enough of you. You were everything to him. He thought about you 24/7. He dreamed about you, he wrote about you.
Suddenly everything had changed.
You two were so happy. Then he came into the picture. You left your true love with a broken heart, you left your true love with tears.
You and the other man had known eachother since you were kids.
But you still thought about the other man. But slowely, the one you had loved so much, was erased from your mind, as the other man took over.
He whispered sweet words, but he didn't mean them. He showed you how much he loved you every night, but he didn't mean it. He didn't enjoy it.
You were so caught up with him, you didn't notice that, the green eyed man you once loved, slowely dissappeared from the world.
You were so caught up with him, you didn't notice that he was changing you. You believed everything he said. And if he told you, that you were one ugly son of a bitch, you believed him. He turned you against your parents. He turned you against the world. Your fans slowely dissappeared. And so did that other man, that you once loved.
Then one night, the man you were so caught up with, slapped you.
He said it was because you deserved it. You believed him.
He kicked you, he said it was because you deserved it. And once again you believed him.
But one day, the drugs killed him. Killed him and his fucked up mind.
Then you remembered your lost love. Your lost friend. You decided to call him, to catch up this past year.
He answered, gasped when he heard your voice. But his voice wasn't the same anymore. It was more hoarse, more deeper.
But it still made you feel weak.
You told him you missed him. You told him that you wanted him to be there with you. So the next day you were in the finnish arms, and he told you he loved you more then anything. That you were still his Bammie.
And you believed him...
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