She opened her eyes. She was immediately engulfed by a blinding light. Nothing but the light existed and she felt happy, light and blessingly neutral. But then the alarm went off. The light disappeared so rapidly she felt as if she were falling. And she fell indeed, she fell back into her body, her life, the cold reality of her life.

Her dreams of happiness and oblivion were interrupted, once again, by the annoyingly loud alarm buzz. She threw back her covers, she had covers? She didn't even feel them. Lately she was going number and number, she couldn't feel heat or cold, pleasure or pain. Her monotonous morning routine of waking up, washing her face and walking out was interrupted with a cold shower. Was it really cold? She couldn't tell. But the water made her feel safe again, secure like in her mothers womb once again.

The girl walked back into her room, faces staring at her from every inch of the four walls. Blue, green and brown eyes cut her to the bone with their impersonally judging stares. She kept her head down, her dark mane of wet hair covering protecting her. She was wrapped up in a towel, careful about hiding her shame, the shame of self-destruction.

The walk to the metro station was as monotonous as each other one before it. She felt a pang of frustration. At least the world could make something interesting happen on her last day. She received some odd looks on the way (nothing new there) the frowned faces scanning her with despise. They looked from the tip of her oval, pallid face, (although they never dared looking her into those penetrating green eyes she had) down her black and red outfit, and to the point of her red Adidas trainers. Sometimes she would answer by glaring at them, the fury building up behind her eyes. Others she would just roll her eyes in frustration. Why was everyone so superficial? So what if her favourite colour was black and she liked to wear it? So what if it reflected her life? Did anybody care? No. So what?

She arrived late (at last something new). As she neared the sickly pink coloured door, her whole expression transformed. Her head was higher and her steps were secure and rapid, her eyes narrowed and the green irises turned ice cold. She opened the door without knocking and walked in. Twenty heads lifted their bored gaze off the book and fixed it on her. Two of them smiled. The rest either shrank back in a mixture of fear and respect or looked disapprovingly at her. Like they knew something about her life to judge her! She walked down the room to her desk at the back. She threw her backpack against the wall, where it fell on the floor on top of another bag. She sat herself down and closed her eyes. As she opened them, her dare-me expression was replaced by a hurt and tired gaze.

The first three hours passed without not one interesting thing being said. The "No-lifers", as she called them, kept giggling about how some teachers hair stood up or how they nearly touched that boy's hand. Their stupidity and ignorance used to amuse her and piss her off at different times. Now she didn't even look up from her sketch book. Their ratty, made-up faces no longer were perfectly defined, they were only blurred figures for her, their existence so useless they weren't even allowed a face. But who was to judge other peoples existence? Her own was enough trouble for her. A vague odour of Calvin Klein's Crave reached her. It couldn't be. He was away. Her eyes filled up with hope as she looked up. As if in slow motion, he entered the class. He was back.

For the first time since he had gone on that skiing trip with his snob parents, her heart began beating again. She bore her lust-filled gaze into him but looked away just as his blue eyes made contact with hers. She returned to her drawings but they were no longer there. The only thing she could see was the blue of his eyes. The only thing she could hear were his casual steps. The only thing she could smell was his Calvin Klein cologne. The only thing she could feel was his presence. She lifted her eyes slowly to look at him. She yearned him so badly, so desperately. The simple image of his six foot frame, the long and muscled legs wrapped in dark jeans, the flat stomach invisible under the loose yellow t-shirt, was enough for her to reconsider her life. He greeted the professor, a wide smile appearing on his face, his eyes wrinkling, with a friendly hand-shake. He explained briefly that he had come back home with his sister while his parents continued skiing in the Pyrenees. Did anyone except her care? She absorbed all this information hungrily while pretending she was too cool to care. Finally he walked to his desk, the empty piece of wood in front of her, and sat down. She stared at the back of his head for fifteen minutes, watching how the dark wavy hair moved while he laughed and joked with his clueless friends. Then she herself resumed talking with her clueless friends but her mind and her body had only one desire: I want to fall into the ocean of his eyes.

Time moved on slowly as she contemplated him from a distance. Lunch neared and passed. He was telling his buddies all about some skis he'd seen or something like that, she wasn't really listening, only observing. Observing how the wind caressed his dark hair and how the sun made him squint. She felt sorry for herself, always observing, but never doing anything useful. She wasn't exactly hideous, she was tall and had a long, slick mane of hair and pretty plush lips, she could have him if she really tried to. But she never did. But she would. At that moment she decided to do it before going into class that afternoon. If he said no, at least she could escape quickly to the conformity of her house and forget.

The bell rang, a loud siren signaling the end of their 30 minute liberty. She was a wreck; she hadn't felt so many things at once for a very long time. The passion, the fear, the embarassment...it all mixed up inside of her, making an explosive cocktail that boiled in her heart. But there was no way out, once she made up her mind, there was no other path. Her steps echoed in her head as she neared him. She didn't even bother checking herself out in the mirror before, where's the sense in that?

He only saw her when they were already face to face. She was beautiful in her black skirt and red-striped shirt. Was she actually talking to him? God, it couldn't be! He heard himself answering her, his voice confident although his knees were shaking. She was so direct, asking him to meet her up after school to go for a walk, she kept her eyes fixed on his. They were so penetrating, like the eyes of a cat and he could barely look into them without melting. He couldn't hear anything, only those green lights existed, flashing sensually at him. Suddenly they were gone. She was gone. He looked at her back longingly as she walked away, hoping she would turn around so he could get a glimpse of her eyes once again. But she didn't.

He had said yes! Yes! The word suddenly assumed a much more important role in her life than ever before. Yes! She couldn't help it, she smiled. A big, fat, ear to ear smile of content. After that blessed conversation, time flew. She resumed her role of bad ass as she crossed her class door. She walked back to her desk and sat down. Shortly afterwards he crossed that same door as well and hurried to his desk in front of her. Inside her her heart battled with her brain to look up. She wanted to but she didn't dare. But curiosity got the better of her and she did. She lifted her eyes just to find his on her. The whole of the class disappeared, the tedious talking of the teacher became silence, only they existed. His two chunks of sky cut into her two pieces of emerald. But then she looked away and the connection was broken. He smiled, a small curve of his lip enough for her to die. She smiled back, a small, shy smile. But it was enough for him. He winked at her and turned away, leaving her once again alone with her mixed up thoughts.

The day passed quickly, the upcoming date with him overwhelmed her, she could barely breath out of emotion for finally being alone with him. Her last class wasn't with him and she hated missing him. She hated feeling anything at all. She had become accustomed to numbness. As she walked out of the building, not even bothering to look at for the last time, the few second walk from the main entrance to the street were the most stressing in her entire life. The nerves were steadily building up with each step she took. When she reached the door, she was almost hoping for him to have gone, but when she stepped outside, onto the street pavement, she saw that she was wrong.

He was standing in a casual pose, waiting for her with a dreamy look in his eyes. He saw her immediately and smiled sincerely when he talked. She answered shyly at first, barely able to contain her feelings, but gained confidence as they walked. She made him laugh, that divine sound that reminded her of an impossible heaven. They walked all the way to her house, talking about nonsense that seemed important, about important things that sounded nonsense. She couldn't help looking at his lips, wishing they would near her. He didn't dare do anything, she too much for him, her presence consumed all life in him, he was completely at her feet. As she saw the familiar doorstep, she flinched. She didn't want to go, she was tied to him in the most unbelievable way. She looked up at him, desperately hoping for something to happen, for him to say something...He saw the need in her eyes, those infinitely green eyes that made him feel completely useless, lacking of importance. Her lips parted to say a word that never came out. He had kissed it away.

He woke up suddenly but kept on dreaming. Dreaming of her. He turned around but saw only emptiness, the whole room was full of emptiness. He avoided looking at all the photos plastered on the walls and concentrated on standing up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a light creeping out under a door in the hallway. He walked towards it, supposing she would be there. A strange feeling of fear came over him, that strange unexplainable feeling you get when you think about death. He resumed his walking, the floor silent under his bare naked feet. Water was making its way under the door, it was of a strange pink colour that freaked him out. Forgetting to knock, just like she always did, he pushed the wooden door open, now completely awake, and stopped breathing just as his heart ceased beating.

Her body was floating lifelessly in the overflowing bathtub. Her dark hair floating around her oval-shaped face, caressing the white skin with its eternal softness. Her eyes, those emerald green eyes, hadn't lost their hypnotic gaze and were fixed on some point between life and death. Blood was still oozing from the deep gashes made in her wrists, the culmination of her self-destruction, the decision she had made that morning, the reason she'd decided to talk to him. Smaller cuts surrounded them, her shame, shining red amongst the pink water. Death hadn't taken away her beauty, her white skin was shining wearily under the white bathroom lights and he longed to touch her, he had never wanted something so much as he wanted her now. He took one step closer, nearing her, and felt a sudden pang of pain his foot sent to his brain. His eyes were forced to leave the breathtaking vision of her suicide and looked down to find that he had stepped on the same kitchen knife she had used to cut the thin cord linking her to her misery.

He picked it up, ignoring the throbbing pain, the blood pulsating in his right foot. He saw his fresh blood mix with hers on the cold blade. His love for her rushed into him with all its might, tears drowning his blue eyes before falling down his cheeks and into his gasping mouth. Their blood united and he felt absorbed by it. He looked once again at her deadly beautiful body, secretly hoping her tortured soul was still trapped in it, waiting for him, waiting. He walked over to it, amongst the drops of blood on the floor and the pink water covering most of the floor tiles. He looked at the curves of her beauty and bent down to kiss her lips, rose petals cold with death. He felt nothing no more, numbness overwhelmed him, and he loathed it. He plunged the same knife she had used to kill herself deep into his chest. Strangely enough there was no pain, no fear, no anger; it had all been replaced by numbness. He felt nothing when the knife pierced his heart, nor did he feel anything when it stopped, or when eternal oblivion took over him. His body fell in a heap on the blood-stained tiles but his soul persisted. And she was there, waiting for him, smiling, happy, light, neutral, free. He smiled in return. He too was free. Their blood-stained love had survived life, and death, and was now free, and pure.