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Who will look for you when you're the one who disappears? Who will look for you when you're the one who disappears? Who will look for you when you're the one who disappears? Who will look for you when you're the one who disappears?
FROM UNKNOWN / AS GOOD AS DEAD
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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 could remember, people have told Evelyn Dorothea Bell she resembles her sister.
As a child, she found those compliments special. Andie was her everything, radiant, confident: everything Evelyn aspired to be. It made her feel validated, like daisies in the spring or sunlight on her cheeks. She sprouted the sparkling blue eyes that all the Bell sister's had. Her white teeth smile the purest and happiest of them all. Too good to be a Bell, not good enough to escape them.
Now, those comments stab her like a knife to the gut. Flesh tearing off her delicate bones, soul decaying like a forbidden fruit, turning to mush under the weight of crushing soil. Each time she looks in the mirror, she's reminded of the sister she may never see again, and the ache is almost unbearable. It felt like bullets piercing her chest, the burning metal cut through layers of her skin, breaking through bone and piercing her heart. It was a wound that could never be healed, because it scars, leaving behind a memory to never forget. She feels it in her heart, the way it aches and burns. She feels it in her lungs, the way it collapsed against her will to breathe. She was in a fight, against her own very being, and she was losing.
