Broken

She ran; ran as she had never run before. Every second, minute, hour, she was grasping tightly on to the rigid edges of her deranged existence. The footsteps behind her became louder and paranoia overcame her; they we after her. The voices inside her head angrily awakened. Screaming. Their pitch amplifying until it became a piercing shriek. Emotion at what she had done overwhelmed her. Pain shattered her body and she fell lifelessly on to the cold concrete. She was beyond any recognition. She knew beyond a doubt, that this was the end.

***

Horror possessed her. Realisation. Jigsaw pieces falling rapidly into place. Her life crashing before her like the demolition of a sacred, untouched temple. Her innocence draining out of her soul as she realised the painful truth. She saw sharp needles. Her mother's corpse like, discoloured face. Her veins protruding from beneath the tight band. She had been oblivious. Slowly, all sense of sanity and normality drained out of her. She was broken. Beyond repair. From this stage in her life, she had no power. No balance. No sanity.

She wept uncontrollably that night. Her tears were acid, poisoning her core. It was that night that her self control was abducted and her mind, her soul and her body were no longer hers to claim. Numerous voices began to debate with hers. They spoke to her. Whispered secrets. They began to direct her choices and she had no desire to fight - no strength. Confusion attached itself to her without invitation. She was unable to distinguish the thoughts in her head from reality. She felt aggressive and she needed a way to release the poison growing within her.

The roaring thunder growled vociferously and the lightning retaliated with a spark of fury across the night sky. Cold, wet bullets were shot down from the heavens. They attacked the naked pavement viciously, leaving it violated and vulnerable. Pain seared through her veins like the discharge of electricity which flashed in the night globe. She was dizzy. Really dizzy. Each shape she focused on became a distant blur. The razor dropped with a thud. Trickle. Trickle. The crimson stream formed a puddle adjacent to her on the marble tiles of the bathroom floor. She was an imitation of the naked pavement - violated and vulnerable.

***

She could smell the damp. Feel the icy wind smash viciously against her fragile face. Taste the bitterness in her dry mouth. She unconsciously grabbed her tangled black hair; tugging and tugging until she had a handful in her pale, weakened hand. She hollered as she rolled around the ground, jerking about like she was enduring a seizure. However, this was no physical pain. This pain came from within - from her mind and the deepest depths of her being.

***

She lay sprawled across the while tiles, staring up at the mouldy ceiling. Slashes and unhealed scars obscured her right arm. She watched the red liquid paint her ghostly skin and remembered the razor sinking its teeth in, hungry for more. A month had passed since the voices had become her faithful companions. She was never alone. She was determined to keep it this way. All friends had deserted her, believing her to have changed. She, Emma Taylor was as powerful as an electrical storm. The universe had been presented to her in a new light and she was an eye witness to the corruption and manipulation which polluted it. She had not yet confronted her mother. Their relationship, if it could be called that, was now as broken as a shattered mirror, pieces shattered everywhere, never to be repaired.

Her mother sat slumped upon the moth infested armchair. Her eyes half closed, purple eyelids heavy, face as pale as death. A needle on the grimy carpet grinned up at Emma. Her mother looked old. Older than she had noticed. Her black hair tinged with grey, fine lines obscuring her sunken face which had once held resemblance to Emma's. Anger surged through her, charging through her bloodstream, the only emotion she could feel. This hell was her life. No happiness and no love. She reached for the knife that lay on the corner table and slowly edged towards her mother.

Stab it into her heart!

I can't!

Do it! She's a liar! She doesn't deserve to live! She doesn't care about you!

But she's my mother!

She's no mother! She's a drug addict. A junkie!

The voices were overpowering and, as Emma heard the last word, she stepped closer to her mother. She blinked awake. Emma saw her deranged reflection in her shocked eyes. The knife stabbed forcefully into her mother's heart. Deeper and deeper. Emma watched her sprawl over motionlessly. The deed was complete. She was proud yet remorseful. Courageous yet aghast. Elated yet overcome with a sinking misery. She was at war with myself. She called the police and then ran.

***

She reached into her pocket and clasped the shiny handle of her best friend. Her warped world started to spin as she plunged the knife deep into her chest. She plunged deeper and deeper, feeling the warm blood creep down her exposed skin. She laughed; mimicking the voices inside her head: this pain she relished. She had cracked permanently and she was now unfixable.

The footsteps had stopped, perhaps they had only ever been a psychological production of her mind, or had they been reality? She was too dizzy to ponder. The voices in her head continued to laugh and gradually all the twisted shapes surrounding her went black.

***

Blue sirens flickered in the night. The police stood over a young girl's soulless body. Her tangled black hair blowing in the whistling wind. Some devil had possessed her causing her to take her mother's and her own life. They examined each inch of her body. Analysing every detail. Observing the scars. Evidence was collected. Interviews were held. However, the girls mental illness was undiagnosed: yet it was apparent she had possessed some disturbing condition. It was recorded as severe depression, a broken home. Neglect. The case was closed. The world soon moved on. Emma watched from above as the voices set off on an endless hunt for another naive, weakened mind and soul to manipulate and abduct. Someone else to leave beyond repair. In shattered pieces. Broken.