Sonata

I - V

Sold. I am being sold.  There's no atom I could steal from this air in order to process what it means to actually feel, because every bone of my body trembles to feeling but I cannot process the means I could take to despair enough in order to become revolutionary and stand my ground, act or speak against it. My thoughts surpass over the seven trillion nerves my body keeps in its system, so I slow down, and between my brain, my spine and through the rest  of my body, life has now begun to slow motion. Time belongs to those who pities no life other than theirs. Mothers hands fall through the strings of my hair, I'm like a puppeteer I am hers to dance along her manipulations. She fades in the dark behind me and I don't move as I sense her fingertips freeing my hair for once, the candles fickle and I beg to blow out the lights so I can dance freely in the void that my heart has now become. Their murmurs, the occasional laugher, I had never once heard them laugh, funny the circumstances that lead to their happiness will be the same ones I will drown myself in at first chance. 

I have no recollection of how much time has passed but the candles are now at their very last and the fireplace almost extinguished to nothing, once again I am alone. Lowering my head I notice my trembling hands, teardrops fall on them as I gradually burst from crying to laughing, my hair slips in front of my face, furthermore, gently, I take both hands to cover my expression, never once not laughing at such ridiculousness of exposing my feelings even to my own self. I bluntly laugh, always observant of my surrounding through my thin skinned fingers I tumble softly to my knees and begin to lament again but this instant, at silence. Hearing me sorrowing would be too much of a satisfactory privilege's. Where is it? I look toward the ripped book pages. I crawl stumbling on my knees searching for a page. One I had written just for her. Where is it? Where is it? - Where is it? - I scream.

The door which they have not left completely close, creaks open once more. My eyes make way in it's direction as I contemplate  Eleanor stepping in, with a posture, she gazes towards the door closing it,  loosen up her shoulders and as consequence of  the vague miserable scenario, for the first time she dares not to attend her eyes on me. Her forehead eases against the door. - Speak. - I order cutting short on emotions. Around her, emotions are sensed to be dangerous. It has never been difficult to expose a heart when it comes to Eleanor, the one who carries the most honest of smiles, no matter how much of a doormat they treat her as, yet, no one's ever satisfied enough. I have only seen her cry once, when by mistake I let her bird out of the cage she had took in after a broken wing, I felt as if the world had started to crumble, Eleanor was like summer itself, a field of never ending honesty and kindness, taking that away from her, even by the most of childish mistakes, had been horrifying, so I promised I would never do anything of such although as fragile as a little kids promise may be, in truth, we are simply reckless at speech and as a consequence we grew to break upon no exception, each fragment of the good spirits the skies had wished on us that day. Unfortunately, I cannot attend to your pain, Eleanor, as you are the very root of it this time.

- You look  intimidating. - She mumbles nervously and in a instant of maniacs' I laugh again, this must be some sort of a joke. - Do I scare you now? - I ironically inquire as I get back on my feet. slapping dust out of my dress Eleanor closes her eyes and distresses her head negatively. - I am not one to be scared of you. - She smile delicately. 

-  Then look at me. - I fix my posture, back straight, head up, chin high. I fix my hair behind my ears, at least one soul I had hoped to be defiant enough to take a closer look  in such degree of pain my face displays towards this shit show.

- It hurts to see you in pain. - Eleanor kindly says as she turns her body towards me but refuses to glance favoring my direction. I nod with my head in disbelief, heeding the book I had left for her on the shelf, all tore apart on the floor, I attain it. - Let's play a game. - I affirm it. - Victoria...- She trembles fairly, for such, furthermore I whisper.

- I spot with my little eye something black - I giggle as my finger caresses the hard black cover of the book - with silver flower ornaments - a childish tone grants domination. As if we were kids again, amused to entertainment, only this time, there is not one upsetting sense of cheer worth to hold happiness accountable for vanishing against our will. My long nails click at the silver on the cover tensing the environment. - With 265 pages out of 280 -  I stroll closer to her. These fingers of mine bound over an amount of pages resting at last on a ripped one. - and my little eye, lastly, spots a deceiver who gave it the most unethical pair of hands I have known since birth. - Eleanor shivers at the sensation of tears and as she confronts to me, I throw the book centimeters away of her face. Eleanor jumps restraining a scream. - If you were not one to be scared of me bet on my dammed soul that soon you will. - I spit the statement to her face as I mold my words aggressively.