𝐈𝐝𝐞́𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐞 (n.)
|ee-day-feeks|
- an idea that dominates one's mind especially for a prolonged period : 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.
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- "He's my illness, but there was no cure."
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𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (n.) |fik-say-shuhn| — an obsessive interest in or feeling about someone or something. ________
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— 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐑 — ⋆
MY FATHER WAS BEING KILLED, and I had envisioned it, regardless of the hands not being my own. Besides, It couldn't have been real — visions occurred as more of a dream, than of a coincidence.
I glare at the reflection before me, cursing at my very existence for being mind-fucked, too inhumane — no matter how thrilling said vision had roused me.
I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane.
It was all I could echo as my hands quiver, fingers hidden amongst locks of crimson — now disheveled, tense. Perhaps, this had been the kismet for defying the respect of my father. No sane daughter wished death upon their own lineage.
Considering that it had been Cruz Serrano's blood running through my veins, I had apparently attained his lunacy — as if his existence hadn't been a mockery enough for me, sheltered behind what had made this universe somewhat appeasing; money.
Perhaps, if my father hadn't stipulated my existence with dollar bills — I would of had the decency to truly give a shit, not to mention that I had wealth stuffed down my throat from the minute I've blessed this universe unworthy.
With my sanity still unscathed, I take hold of the crimson tresses with a punishing sigh. Amidst that, I part the strands prior to my whimpers — dousing onyx tint until the crimson no longer veiled.
Visions came with inflictions — even if that purpose came to be my own hair, now doused with streaks from years onwards. That being said, I bury the pain, curling my lips — a semblance of a woman whose mind echoed one of a knife not their own.
