The Shadows Within Us

A House of Flames is Not a Home

Entry:
I've heard that birds on Earth fly south every winter in big groups. They must have learned that it's warmer there.

It seems like instinct exists in two parallels.

The way evil lingers here is like an instinct of its own.

Everything is backwards in Hell.

Everytime I think too hard about it, my chest feels hot with hatred. My stomach turns and the thoughts get so loud that I can't hear the real world anymore.

I'm no different than any of them—the monsters. No matter how badly I'd like to believe I don't belong, I do.

There's this affliction inside me, a dependency.

I'm despicable for what I am.
And I have to live with it, for however long this eternal torment lasts.

An ear-splitting screech erupted from outside Eden's blurry bedroom window, followed by a sharp THWAK! And then, silence. The somewhat disheveled girl jolted, turning her head quickly toward the sound. Her small, handheld black journal fell to the floor with a clap, alongside the black pen she had been using.
She stood in a flash of motion, staring with cautious, carmine orbs in the direction of the window. She counted the seconds as she stood, waiting silently in the musty stiffness of her bedroom.

One...Two...Three...

Impatiently, Eden began braving her way closer to the open door frame. Bare feet traversing over the shabby, torn carpet. Her hand slid gently along the cracked surface of the wooden frame and its chipping paint, bright red irises peering cautiously down the dark hallway.

The rose pink door adjacent to her bedroom creaked open a few inches, riddled with amateur graffiti. A pair of tangerine eyes appeared; the girl's older brother, Elliot, glancing around the corner inquisitively.

"Ellie-?" She began, her small voice abruptly silenced by the loud crack and slam of the jagged front door. Her body moved on its own, promptly slipping back behind the dilapidated frame, into the safety of her bedroom. Though, without a door to close and lock, she hardly felt safe anywhere.

There was silence, as though the sound had been imaginary. Eden swallowed her nerves once more, leaning forward just enough to peer down the thin, liminal hallway of her father, Osiris', shabby home.

Her older half-sibling, Elliot, squinted down the hall, his pretty features appearing slightly agitated. The disturbance must have interrupted something important, Eden imagined.
Suddenly, his orange gaze shifted to meet her nerve-ridden cherry orbs. The pressed expression softened for a moment as he sent a reassuring nod the girl's way. No matter how shabby of a sibling he was, he always intended to protect his less than capable little sister.

Heavy footsteps slowly began to trudge across the thin wooden floor, both siblings turning their attention back down the hall with apprehensive stares until large black boots made themselves visible. There was no relief to be felt when the girl identified him, the assumed intruder.

Osiris stood tall with low shoulders, an odious expression smeared onto his sharp features. Short, unkempt hair the shade of a sandy desert accompanied the fiery fuschia glare that flickered dully onto the youngest of the siblings.

Eden suddenly felt small, wishing she could sink into nothingness. Her nails unintentionally dug into the chipping paint of the doorframe, latching on as though it could offer some sense of protection, anything. She felt a raging anxiety building inside, and if her heart could beat, she was sure it would be pounding.