Faking My Own Suicide

How are you supposed to know if he really loves you? When the only time he’s said it was too get me to sleep with him. When he barely even speaks to me anymore, when he hits me.
I love him so much, I always have. But I don’t know how much more I can take it. If he should ever come to visit me, he will have left completely satisfied. Apparently unaware of my pain. That’s why I’ve decided that it be best if I faked my own suicide.
He’s supposed to meet me at my house in two hours. By then, I will have left. He will read my suicide note and not a tear will come to his eyes as he gently will place the note back on the table and walk away, moving on.
I want him to feel what I feel, feel the pain he’s caused me over the years. Hear what I hear. Hear him screaming at me calling me names, mocking me. I want him to see what I see. I want him to see the look on his face whenever he hits or shoves me.
There’s a half an hour left before he should arrive. I live on the water, a cliff behind my house. How ironic. More so actually…perfect. Perfect because they have no chance in ever finding my body, because I’m faking my death. I’m too scared to even actually commit suicide. They say that committing suicide means you’re a coward, so then what does faking it mean? It’s pathetic.
What kills me the most are the memories of when he used to care. Was it all just a lie? Or did he, all along know that I’d want to die. The note is placed ever so carefully on the kitchen table. Written as neat as I could. My tears are the only ones that will shed, eve n though his  should. I hide in my closet because I have to see his face one more time before I let him go.
I love him so much and I always will. I have to admit I am going to miss his devilish smirks and his gorgeous body. I am going to miss how he never needs to use his lips to get his point across because his eyes say everything for him.
The doorbell rings and I want to open the door and collapse into his arms. My heart skips two beats. He opens the door, obviously frustrated. He is cursing under his breath as he stomps towards the kitchen. Locking the closet door, I wait as he spots the note. Hastily, he snatches it from the table and I watch as his ebony eyes scan the paper.
Sasuke closes his eyes and smirks.
“Sakura get the fuck out here. I don’t have time for this.” Tears are streaming down my face because he knows me too well. I cry as silently as possible because it’s too late to turn back now. Moments pass as he waits for me to open the door to wherever I’m hiding and apologize like a good little girl. But I never do.
“God damnit Sakura!” He abruptly stands and bolts upstairs. I hear his rushed, staggered footsteps as he rushes to find me. The clock ticks ever so loudly and his footsteps rush back down the stairs, in sync with my rapid heartbeats. I hear Sasuke scream loudly.
Sasuke slammed his fist down to the table and my eyes widen as I see blood gushing down and dripping onto the floor. This is not supposed to be happening. He’s not supposed to care. A clear salty liquid is leaking from his eyes and I must be hallucinating. Oh god, why am I doing this?
I love him so much, I don’t want to see him get hurt. But it’s too late…His neck snaps up so fast I swear I thought he had whiplash as I am unable to contain a hiccup. When I look at him his cheeks are magically dry.
I guess I was hallucinating.
My body shivers and I hold my shoulders and sink to the ground. My sobs are loud and uncontrollable. Sasuke comes up to the door and bangs loudly on it.
“Sakura, open the fucking door!” he roars. My hands shake and my lips quiver as I grasp the doorknob and turn. His foot connects with the door and his deep onyx eyes are glaring fire red. His large hand wraps around my delicate arm and I feel the blood on his knuckles drying up.
Yanking me up, I expect him to slap me. He doesn’t. Instead, his grasp on my arm cuts off the circulation.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he shouted. My eyebrows raise from crying and my eyes become a human faucet. Suddenly, I collapse into his chest, gripping onto his shirt for dear life.
“Oh god, I love you so much.” I murmur through his now drenched shirt. His one hand glued to my arm, the other traveling up to grip my hair tightly.
He pushes my head harder against his chest.
“Damnit, Sakura. Don’t ever fucking do that again.” He whispers. And he pulls on my hair, causing my face to tilt upward and for my sea foam green eyes to meet his. His grip on my arm loosens subconsciously and he rubs my cheek with his thumb.
“Don’t ever fake your own death again.” His voice is now soft and soothing. I could fall asleep right then and there from intoxication. I nod my head with lidded eyes, while his lips capture mine in a scorching and passionate kiss. So unlike any other, it wasn’t possessive or controlling. But gentle and caring. I began to feel something that I haven’t felt in a while, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. He broke away first, and pushed his forehead to mine. His hot breath, tickling my nose.
Sasuke backed me up against the wall and pressed his body to mine. We fit perfectly together like two puzzle pieces , our bodies molded into one. And in one short intake of air, he muttered the three words that almost killed me. I wrapped my arms securely around his waist and I realized that up until now, my death wasn’t being faked.