The Shadow That Smiled At Me

Chapter one

The night sky was shrouded in ebony clouds, darker than the deepest depths of space. Not even the brightest star, not even a single ray of the moon's light, not far from its wholeness, came through them. A cold wind blew from the sea, ruffling my hair. I stood on a high cliff, staring into the distance at the horizon hidden in the darkness. From the deep below me came the deafening crash of waves breaking on the rocks. I looked down. Didn't see them. I could only imagine the hell going on there.

I was filled with a sense of sadness bubbling to the surface like geysers in Iceland. I couldn't suppress it. Couldn't take it anymore. The soul was bleeding with sorrow. I suffered and felt heavenly peace at the same time. The tragic melancholy forever etched in my memory.

I took a step closer to the edge of the cliff. One more... two. I stood at the crossroad between falling and the safety of the ground under my feet. I looked up from that horror to the heavens, seeking comfort. I was alone. All alone as always.

I turned my back to the sea. The wind was blowing hair in my face. I broke down. Something broke inside me. I heard the sound of the crack. It will be echoed inside me forever.

I fell over the edge. I fell and fell until darkness engulfed me.

And here I woke up. I always wake up here.

Still one and the same dream recurring for several years. I always fall. There is no one to save me. I always fall. There is no other way this story could end.

I will fall.

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That all changed on my sixteenth birthday.

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Hi. My name is Arya. I attend a private high school in Los Angeles. I have many friends - good and bad. I'm dating the captain of the football team, a local superstar. Even though I'm not part of the cheerleading team, I'm kind of likable, what others would call popular. My family definitely does not lack money. We live in a large villa, made of marble and glass, on the outskirts of the city, where I spend most of the day alone because my parents are always on the road somewhere - and I am an only child.

To many, this might seem like a dream life. Many would certainly like to change with me, but to have all this; family, friends, popularity, and money, does not mean living an idyllic fairytale. Nobody really knows me. What's the point of a fairytale when you have to live a lie to maintain it? Deceiving yourself and others.

Basically, I'm just an ordinary girl like any other. I bleach my waist-length brown straight hair, platinum blonde, and curl it into natural-looking waves every morning. My eyes are dark brown, almost black - that's why my mother called me black-eyed when I was little. My make-up is by no means natural – bold black eyeliner around my eyes and shimmering silver eyeshadow. However, I hate lipstick, so I don't use it. My clothes don't have a specific style, so I often look like a mix of different periods. But I have to admit that I like wearing Victorian-style clothes the most.

Every time I look in the mirror, I hate what I see. Not what is seen on the outside, but what is inside. Dark thoughts racing through my head like the four horsemen of the apocalypse. They are a perverted poison that has been planted in my heart and is rapidly spreading through the veins and arteries further into the body. Emotions that I can't explain that come out of nowhere and I don't know their origin, are eating me alive. They leave behind total devastation, bleeding wounds, red rivers. Never having time to heal, they bite off another piece of me, bigger and bigger, and continue their destructive campaign. I try to stop it, I try so hard, but there are times when I give in and the blood seeps to the surface.

I can't escape it, and that's why I hate myself.

I am weak.

I'm a hypocrite. A notorious liar made up of everything I hate and condemn. And why? I can't bear the thought of suffering like I used to. Because of this, years ago I decided to play up my pretend game so that I would never have to face it again.