Frozen

Four: Faults

Hey guys! well asyou can tell im in the watty awards :D im going to try to update daily, and im sorry tht this chapter kinds sucks :/ ill rewrite it soon! comment, vote and fanning are appreciated :D <3

~naomi  

PS-a new thing about elizabeths past is gunna be rvealed each chp :D

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Four: Faults

            Elizabeth’s mind went blank. All she could hear was the continuous knocking on the wooden door of Owen’s house, it was eternal, everlasting.

            She wanted to burst into tears because of the memories she didn’t remember, the times she couldn’t recall, the scars she couldn’t see. And she could feel them; they burned her eyes as the water consumed her vision, drowning them in a haze so thick the world became blurred.  

            Shook with fear, Elizabeth didn’t know what else to do, what else to think; it felt like she was screaming in a room full of people and no one heard her. No one bothered to look at her, to see the terror that held in the pretty girls eyes.

            She sat there frozen on the ground, not moving, she wasn’t even positive she was breathing. The air floated around her, thick with the heavy sound that conquered her. It dripped down with big drops, so copious it came down in globs and bits.

            “Who is it,” Owen’s voice snapped her out of her own world, forcing her back into the sad reality that they called life. He nudged her arm with his hand moderately; the longing of desire was weaved in with the gesture.

            “Someone, someone I know.” He rolled his eyes, clear annoyance on his face. She knew he knew that, but there was no other way to explain it. What else could she say? A friend? A relative? Her father?

            She choked on the word father mentally; it stung her worse than a million bee stings. What happened to him that made her so sick? So sick, that she wanted to curl up in a ball, weep silently and pray that no one found her, even though she cryptically longed for someone to care enough to find her.

            The knocks came faster now, harder, more urgent than before. It seemed like the man was getting frustrated, annoyed almost.

            “Can I answer it?” He whispered into her ear, so quietly it was scarcely audible. His breath swam into my ear, tickling the small hairs that grew inside. I cringed away from the heat, and inch away from him.

            Elizabeth swallowed, a lump forming in her throat as the tears threatened to come back again; her stomach ached, pain shooting through her. She nodded her head quickly before she changed her mind.

            She conjectured why she did that, why would she let him answer the door if she dreaded the man so fiercely? Was there something wrong with her? All she knew that she didn’t make that decision on her own, someone else did for her, someone or something.

            Her eyelids closed over her blue irises, pounds of oxygen flowed into her like a wave. Deep breaths, she thought, deep breaths and then you’ll calm down. Somehow her advice worked.

            The beautiful girls feet wobbled under her weight as she stood, so unstable she thought that she would come crashing down into a heap of a pile. Her feet walked against the cool hardwood floor.

            Each panel that coated the ground was stained the same light brown as the wooden beams on the ceiling. Although patches of unique plagued the floor, some not even dyed while others were stained so excessively dark splotches appeared at random moments. The inadequacies stood out, so gorgeous and beautiful it almost seemed they were done on purpose; the flaws made the wood seem perfect.

            Only seconds passed until she stood side by side with Owen, both facing the same black eyed man that littered the doorway.

            The man was even more horrid up close, more wrinkles could be seen, grey hairs were out of place, flying in different directions all around and the suit seemed even larger than before. His eyes stared at them, black and cold like stones as he glared.

            “What do you want?” Owen spat harshly at him, poison dripping off his words.

            “Elizabeth,” He smiled a twisted smile, a mischievous glint in the murky abyss that was held in his sockets.  

            Owen tensed, stepping in front of her protectively. Why did she let him do this? Why did he want her to open the door when she was clearly horrified of what was hidden behind it?

            “Leave her alone she did nothing to you,” He growled.

            “Oh, but I believe otherwise,” The man advanced forward, Owen pushed him back as soon as he took a step in the house. “Pushy, now are we?”

            “Go. Away.” The sudden power overcame her; the snarl came out of her mouth fiercely like a lion when it roars.

            “Ah, she speaks!” He exclaimed, slapping his hands together. Mocked joy was etched onto his features, wrinkles folding into one another as he smiled.

            Owen’s and Elizabeth’s glares matched one another perfectly, face set, jaws locked and eyes narrowed, they looked at the man.

            His faced morphed to match theirs like a mirror or a simple shadow, following their master’s movements. “Do you know your parents Elizabeth? Do you know how they died, how it was your fault?”

            The harsh expression dropped, pain and shock overcame it impulsively. It was the fact that she knew nothing about them that scared her, but to find out that it was her fault wanted to make her run, scream, hide. Most of all, she wanted to cry.

            Owen saw the blow; he stood there in shock as he took in what he just said. Maybe the girl he thought was so perfect wasn’t. But still his face twisted into a disgusted appearance.

            “Get out,” Owen slammed the door in his face; he could hear his nose crack as he slammed it, a cry of pain piercing through the wood.

            Elizabeth stared at the door in horror, the shock of the man’s words still floated through her head, taunting her, it was your fault. She slammed against the wall and slide down, letting the crystal tears flow freely down her face.

            It was her fault. She may have killed her parents.