The Pretty Poison

PART 17 - The In-Between: Burns and Splinters

PART 17 – The In-Between: Burns and Splinters

The sun starts to set as the girl sits precariously on the edge of an old cot. Her stare looks to the white and grey speckled floor as she hears the younger one whimper awake.  Burned knees are pulled closer to the chest. It must begin.

There is a purpose to the awakening and admittedly the girl is excited for it. But even with the end in sight, there is still the fear of the plan. The fear of: what if it goes wrong? She stops her hands from shaking by gripping her legs tighter. Pretty lips murmur confusion as they return to life.

“Where am I?” The one on the floor draws her light brown hair behind her ear revealing gorgeous hazel eyes. She could kill with those if she wanted. The burned girl can’t answer and with no reply, the other reaches for the door to turn the handle unsuccessfully. Like a child, the girl shakes her head and almost tips her body off the cot.

“You can’t leave me.” At the door, she turns slowly at the sudden echoing voice. Her features come into view and the burned one sighs. She sees the lovely skin, the kind she’ll never have again.  That stunning complexion... Jealousy is quickly suppressed under layers of calm. There is a conversation that needs to be spoken. “Hello, Angela.”

Angela slides to the ground and stays at the base of the door. She has seen the burns before. She’s dreamt of her, thought of her similar hazel eyes many times.

“Who are you? How…” The pretty girl swallows through a dry mouth and continuously searches for a way out. Her eyes find none but the barred window. “How do you know me?”

Silence. The young woman moves from the bed and glides her bare feet over to the vanity. She start playing with an old hairbrush filled with dead strands of hair and what looks like a crimson goo. It spins under her finger as she continues the one sided conversation happening in her mind.

“I see you in the mirror. Every day you’re there.” Her voice sounds multiplied in a way not possible. Some are whispers, some sound similar to quiet screams. The fabric of Angela’s top scrapes along the wall until she can back off no further. But the corner she stops at feels more like a trap than a safe place to be.

Suddenly, the girl with burns jerks her neck. The other side wants a turn. The body twitches the arms followed by the slow crawl of her skin changing. It resonates in the In-Between dreamscape, sounding much like meat mutilated by a knife. She morphs into cracked skin like that of an aged portrait, contrasting the squishing and mangling noise. A growling tone replaces the voice of voices and the girl turns around with electric blue eyes.

“And every day I live with what you did to me!” Her fist pounds on the wood of the vanity, bouncing the brush slightly and making Angela flinch. An animal’s snarl leaks from the splintery lips but the blue dims to the hazel eyes she was before. In that moment, the crackling of fire fills the room and the burned flesh returns.

She watches as Angela squeezes against the wall and tries to control the trembling. Sweat glistens on her forehead in the light from the shaded window. Her fear is no secret and secretly the girl relishes it. Using the bed as the only protection she has, Angela fumbles her words.

“Wha-What are you? What…?”

The burned one smiles sweetly, something the younger girl finds more sinister than kind. Her disfigured lips fall into false sorrow.

“I am Rachael.” The words ring out clear in their echoing voices. Angela sighs, subconsciously relieved she can place a simple name. Her head bows in understanding and her shoulders begin to loosen.

“And don’t forget Lucy!” The shoulders snap back into rigidness and thump softly to the wall behind. The fractured-skin girl laughs maniacally at the pathetic emotions. But instead of retreating into Rachael as she had before, Lucy takes full control. This time, she calls the shots.

She drops to the floor and uses a spidery crawl to become face to face with her prey. Her feet scrape the floor making Angela’s skin prickle. The helpless whimpers encourage the demonic girl’s hand to touch the soft flesh of her cheeks.

Saliva leaks from her lips and puddles on the floor as she mockingly compliments the porcelain skin. She smiles at the flinching and shivers. This girl is to suffer. Lucy tells her how pretty she really is and purrs against her skin.

Fingers curl around a frail wrist and force the softer hand to touch the splintered face. She smiles at the cool feel but Angela withdraws. The skin and fear is too much to handle. She wants to wake.

Unforgivable. A frown plants itself on the contours of Lucy’s face. Another growl fills the air. She forces the young one to her feet and drags her to the vanity. Hazel eyes are turned aggressively to the mirror and the girl listens to the raspy breathing in her ear.

“My skin is ugly. Isn’t it?” Angela is not even let time to answer. The splintered hand forces the girl to nod. She is pushed callously away as Lucy caresses the reflecting glass. “But your skin…”

The mirror reflects a girl of seventeen shedding unwanted tears and quivering her lips. Her arms wrap around her body in feeble protection and not even her strength would help her in this fight of survival. Lucy sighs with satisfaction.

“I don’t want Rachael anymore,” she says light and airy. Her hand twirls the hairbrush on the table as she hums a faintly familiar song. Her fingers leave the brush and stroke the piece of reflection Angela looks to. She cackles hysterically. “I just want to be pretty!”

The glass breaks as easily as ice from the force of Lucy’s bare fist. Shards slice into Angela’s arm as she raises them to protect herself. She feels the intense pain dig into her skin. She yells for help but no one around will hear her cry.

Pretty screams herself awake, drenched in a cold sweat. Though huddled fearfully on the bed and clinging to a broken picture, Westley’s trailer never felt safer.