Silent Pantomime

Chapter 57 | Blondie said she's dangerous

Chapter 57🌌:

"Don't be mad people are talking about you behind you're back, because they're in the right place. Behind you," used to be my life motto. But life mottos change when your life is on the line. Suddenly everyone behind you has a knife that can reach the hole where your heart is supposed to be. Suddenly everyone can kill you. And suddenly you don't know what to believe anymore, so you don't know who to trust. So you trust no one as your brain is too confused for one more of life's shitty riddles. Whispers about me weren't for attention, suddenly whispers about me were plots to smack out my soul.

I sometimes wished I could have been the miscarried child my mum had, and some other normal kid could have been born in my place instead. I could have whispered to Mum not to cry, as I was just a phase. She wouldn't have ever known me, but then maybe she wouldn't have been driven crazy, then she might well have lived. So many people blame the bad things in their life to be what made them turn out to be so awful, as life is cruel and tries everything to get out of the grasp of everyone. But nothing cruel in life twisted me, I just twisted it with my own bare blood-covered hands. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get rid of the violence that burnt right through me that ruined everything. How did I become like this? What made me half-girl half-snake? Serpents held less poison and killed less people than me. And what did I do it all for? Someone to think of me, obsess over me, die for me? I didn't understand the riddle in the letters to work out who was behind it all, all I ever did was jump to conclusions and drop the suspect immediately after they said they didn't do it. Clearly I wasn't smart. Just a dumb blonde girl who wanted people to like her. It was pathetic. I am pathetic.

My mum died, but so did Cinderella's, and she didn't become a manipulative dipshit. My dad didn't like me, but I wasn't fond of him myself. All I did was hold my mum's grief in one hand and put my dad's apathy in my pocket to blame everything I ever did on that. "Oh poor Hazel, she's been through too much, put pity on her." Life's cruelty wasn't making me a monster, but the monster was making me cruel.

Cruel and dumb.

Even if the violence was over, I thought I'd still carry it with me forever. I would hold the built up anger in my stomach to the point where I'd get scratch marks on my body when I woke up in the mornings, as if Freddy Krueger had attacked me; all due to the nightmares spilling out of me and screaming, clawing out to break the silence. The marks would be a constant reminder I couldn't ever escape from myself.

Before, I was a thief of hearts with a devilish but angelic grin, and now I was a bloodied Tweedle Dee who couldn't not sin.

Now I'd given off the secret, I was going to die unloved, ugly, alone and bitter. But I'd written the script to my own pantomime, so it was my own fault. I just forgot that even Romeo and Juliet began as a romantic comedy before becoming a tragedy. Pantomimes are meant to be bold, fun and manic in the good way, but I twisted it too much and force fed it my poison.

***

Back in the day, England's people princess was Diana, and nowadays it's either Megs, Katie or Jack Grealish - but I had always been my own. Until now. I decided to finally go off and buy my mum the roses I had talked about getting her. My mum always told me she wished she was a princess, which sounds rather childish, but she was pretty and smart enough for it. She would have loved being royalty, because it would have been like some fairytale come true with pixie dust coated onto it.

Typically, as I walked to the florists it began raining. Pathetic fallacy or some irony I didn't have the time of day for. Even more typically, the florists were closed. As a Disney ruiner fanatic, my mind went on a rampage about how as soon as the Beast's flowers ran out, he would have stayed trapped and ugly forever. I didn't have any petals to fall at all, making me wonder if I would be trapped as a near goner doll forever too. The lights of the shop were all off, and the night was growing as the rain pounded harder. All I could do was pick up a single dying red rose that had been dropped on the floor, at least Alice would've been proud.