A smile slips onto his lips as the first drop of blood runs down his collarbone. One drop followed by more, and the smile never fades.
The beige collar of his shirt starts to stain red, along with my fingertips wrapped around the dagger handle.
He'...
Hold yourself up higher and higher 'Cause I'm not buying the things you wanna say I've heard 'em all now anyway You're such a liar My favorite liar Favorite Liar ~ The Wrecks ~ 'and if you do anything to her your head will quickly be separated from your body with no hesitation and no trace as to who did it.' ~
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"Clementine?"
My eyes flutter open, a quick moment of panic taking over when I see I'm not in my bed, but quickly recognize the beige walls and lingering smell of leather and tobacco and relax.
I shift uncomfortably into a sitting position to look at the door, my eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight filling the room. "I-Ivy?"
My little sister chokes out a laugh through her tears and runs over to me embracing me in a hug, I flinch at the pain of her hands against the cuts on my back and her arms tight around my ribs, but ignore it for the reason I haven't seen my sister in a month, and haven't hugged her longer.
"Be careful, she's really beat up."
Ivy whips her head towards the door where Aspen is leaning against the open door frame, eating an apple. "Shove it up your ass, Aspen. Or I'll do it for you." She snaps back.
I scoff as I watch Aspen's face scrunch up in disgust and anger, turning around and walking down the hallway. Ivy rushes over to shut the door and comes back to sit on the bed next to me. I rest my head on her shoulder, truly relaxing for the first time in awhile.
"You're an idiot." Ivy whispers.
"I know." I reply back truthfully.
꧁♕꧂
I wander around Aspen's room in a pair of sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt and old socks with holes in them, that Ivy brought from home. She brought me a couple day's worth of clothes, and a book to read that I've already read six times.
Apparently I slept until 2pm, so Ivy waited until after lunch was cleaned up in the kitchen to come up and wake me.
I told her everything that happened, filling in the gaps the media missed. She helped me get in and out of the shower and get dressed before heading back down around 6 for dinner preparations. Aspen hasn't come back since I woke up.
I make my way into the bathroom connected to his bedroom, and look in the mirror. My previously matted hair full of dreadlocks is brushed out and sitting flat, smooth and wet on my head, thanks to the shower and Ivy's 45 minutes of brushing.
My arms are full of thin cuts that are scabbed over and spotted with faint bruises beginning to fade away from a week of occupying my skin.
My face is even thinner than normal, the inedible sandwich-a-day they gave me while in my cell didn't do much to help my already borderline eating disorder.
