The Pretty Poison

PART 14 - The In-Between: Dismal Routines

PART 14 – The In-Between: Dismal Routines

Despite the scabs and the seared skin, the young man gets closer to the girl. His eyes look into hers and smiles with a hidden affection. He pushes the limits of her boundaries before she says no and to his surprise, she lets him nearer than the others before him. But the closer he gets, the warmer she feels. It’s not long before she takes a step back to lengthen their distance and to remove the rose tint from her cheeks.

Her eyes look up to him in sincerity but try to keep to their kindly nature. There is a bond growing between them, one she is not prepared for. She turns her face even before the call of her name. The voice rings out gently, making the girl search genuinely for its owner. A second is all it takes to distract her from the one in front of her.

He leans in and wraps his arms around her with tender intentions. But even with the softness he means, terror rages inside her from the threat he brings. Her breath catches and a light scream threatens to escape. She reacts with no thought, pushing him violently away from her. The guy crashes into the wall beside him but she makes no attempt to reconcile. He is not her love. She is not his.

Red hair flashes in front of her as she struggles away from the fallen young man. She is pulled to her feet, watching the blood pour from his nose. Oh how the scarlet stains his skin, she thinks. She reaches to touch it but is pulled further away. The young man is left there while another hurries to his side.

The girl knows she should feel something for the guy but her mind doesn’t allow her to be swayed. He deserved that. He shouldn’t touch her. Ever.

She looks to the woman who holds her arm and sneers. She hates the feeling of being dependent but this woman thinks herself above the girl. The red hair is as fiery as she thinks she is. The young girl laughs at her slurring words while being dragged away. No red headed demon can hurt the in her own world, right?

The sun in the window pours in and shines on the wall. As they pass, their shadows flit over the gleaming paint, the polished doors, the spotless pictures. It reminds her of dancing and beautiful music. Her feet start to sway to the sounds only she can hear as the red-haired woman struggles to keep the girl moving forward.

As they are about to reach the room where the young girl is to rest, a scream erupts down the hallway interrupting their thoughts. The two immediately stop, blocked by the rushing of men and women dressed in blue. Confusion reaches for all of them. Some cower behind their protectors while others stand on their toes with curiosity. The young girl cranes her neck and sees a hand on the ground, loosely clinging to a plastic bottle of liquid. The body it belongs to thrashes around, spittle oozing from her throat.

The older woman releases her grip and runs towards the uproar. It is the second of the day’s events that the burned girl caused and yet she continues to be ignored. Her hands crumple into fists and wrinkles the white dress she wears. If she is damned to this purgatory, she should at least be recognized for her misdoings. A sob like that of a child’s scrunches on her features and her skin turns to dusty cracks. Time for her spotlight.

She shrieks and falls to the grey-speckled ground. Her limbs writhe on the floor like that of the life she is taking and her tangled hair whips with each movement of her head. This is supposed to be her day.

A man with a salt and pepper beard runs to her rescue. He holds the screaming girl close, giving her the attention she desperately seeks. He tries all the calming methods from rocking her gently to hushing her with peaceful words.

Soon the girl becomes too tired to fight. Her arms quit beating on his coarse chest and instead scratch numbly at her fracturing skin. The concerned faces of those around her are enough to satisfy the girl. She falls silent and renounces the false convulsion of her limbs.

Her hands calmly remove the older man’s arms from her torso and she sits peacefully in the middle of the floor. After making sure she will not go off into her demonic persona once more, he removes himself from her company, perplexity written on his face. He joins the others by removing the frightened faces from the grim sight, soothing them as he had just done with the girl.

Her gaze turns back to the affair the others watch as a twisted grin spreads on her ghostly cracked lips. It will be over soon and the girl down the hall will be gone from here. The trembling form struggles in plain sight, exactly as it should be.

The last few jerks diminish until the body becomes still. The dark skinned girl releases the bottle, letting it roll to hall where her neighbor still watches. It falls to the floor with no one hearing it in the sinister commotion. Invisible as it was at the moment, it made the difference of a life.

Back to her skin of burns, the girl sighs and picks the bottle up. She turns it over in her hands, thankful for a new plaything to amuse herself with. Hazel eyes glance back up but walk into their room with an expression of indifference.

Death and despair has become her routine.