The Girl Who Once Lived

Chapter 8

His PoV

     Red. The clouds' gloom obscured the light of the sun anticipating its slumber. We were surrounded by a variety of colors that kept the attic vibrant. The lampshade next to my painting stand was yellow. Yellow, the color of her inner child, elicited enthusiasm in her eyes. The paintings of her soulful, innocent gazes that hung in every corner of the room, inspecting my entire existence, were hazel brown. Black was the color she used to conceal her pain and suffering were thrown on the floor. I applied the red, green, purple, blue, and white on the palette to get the correct shade for her cocoa brown hair stained on my hand. There were so many hues and tints to focus on, yet the only color I could see was red - the color of love, a sign of passion, and a cry of rage.

     Blood. There was a lot of blood trickling from her badly battered and injured wrist. I was astonished to see the little blade in her fingers gradually cutting through her pale skin. I could feel how terrible it was, yet how ironic that she made another incision as if she wanted more. She was craving more pain. It was so poetic, as if the agony was her comfort and the silver color was what soothed her bare soul.

     "What?" Her innocent eyes lingered on mine. I couldn't read it. Her eyes were lifeless - like a blank canvas lacking color. Why the hell was she so composed?

     I stared at it for a while then back at her eyes looking for some justification of what she did. Where did she even get... How did... What was the reason...

     What the hell is she doing? I am fucking gobsmacked and astonished! There was a hollow in my stomach and a void in my heart!

     I was unable to take it in. I had several questions I wanted to ask, but I was concerned those words would cut deeper into her wounds. Even the number of letters in the Alphabet could not adequately explain what I was experiencing as I opened my mouth to speak. I remained motionless for a few minutes, looking like a blinking, frozen object that was unsure of what to do. I don't even know how to react!

     This is my first time seeing...

     "Don't you dare tell me you're afraid of blood?" she inquired, which jolted me back to the present. Her voice had a mocking tone. She appeared to be treating this as some sort of a test, but I wasn't ready for it. I was in no way content.

     "Lily, shit!" I gasped in horror. She made another cut!

     Putangina!

     I created a facade to bury my feelings. While carefully searching the nearby drawer for a clean cloth to cover his bloodied wrist, my hands began to perspire. What on earth was she thinking?

     The ground could tell how much I wanted to run, but I decided against it. I wanted to yell at her, but I refrained myself.

     When I finally had a white cloth in my hands, I turned back to her. While she was looking at me closely, I tore it up without looking at her. She was reading me as though she were enjoying a novel.

     "You're shaking."

     Fuck yes, I am!

     I discreetly tucked a piece of white cotton around her wrist while continuing to avoid looking directly into her perceptive, deceptive pair of eyes.

     "Lily, do you find this amusing? " I exclaimed incoherently after a long breath. I was irritated. I was perplexed.

     She let out a chuckle. "Pussy!"

     As soon as she said it out loud, my brows began to furrow even more. My mind was blown by this girl!

     When I looked at her, her lips were arched upward and wide open. Her shoulders were moving. She was giggling hysterically. However, the look in her eyes and the lack of emotions in it was telling me otherwise.