Betrayal glaciates my heart. Grief roils my stomach. Anger cauterises my blood. The truth a perpetual, blistering ache. A deep pain far within my chest. Physical destruction reflecting my mental carnage. She had lied.
When I had let her read me like a manuscript, she still threw all of it back into my face, back into my then loyal, now tortured being. I wonder if she knew that what she had done was cataclysmic. Had she been forced? Pressured? Or had it been her consciously made decision.
She had the ruby red blood of innocents staining her slim, calloused hands. She was no longer a lover, a friend, a sister to all. But a murderer. A cold blooded, treacherous killer.
~
My parents died when I had been just three years of age. Not one of my relatives would take me under their wing.
Why would they, when I had no idea who my father was. When my mother didn't know either. When my hair was the colour of a freshly cut garnet. When my eyes closely resembled the colour of emeralds. When I was, in their view, the equivalent of demon spawn.
So I had ended up here. An orphanage in the middle of a shadowy, hauntingly silent forest. At just fourteen years old.
~
The moment I walked through those worn pine doors, I was immediately in love. I love the old sense of self it had. Not worn out-old but a warm and welcoming-old.
The very first sign of human life I saw was a girl standing, watching at the the top of the old oak stair case.. The girl who had jump started my life, and had almost ceased my very existence. I had loved her with all of my shattered, pained heart. I'd thought she had loved me back.
But in the end she still used me. Just like everyone else in my neglected life. My grandparents. My friends. My home. Everyone.
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Short stories👌👌
Short StoryJust a bunch of poorly written shorts stories that I have laying around... have fun I guess haha
