"I hate you" I said to the reflection I saw when I looked at the mirror hung up against the wall across the four-poster bed, that bed that I loved since I was a little innocent girl, by the wild, rolling river. I don't remember how did I get here but I do remember why.
This house was my family's vacation house for ages, it gathered the whole family each summer every year, but we haven't visited it for too long, since the accident. The dust made the furniture lose its beauty, but I loved it anyway because it reminded me of my new self, dull and dirty. This place made me feel at home, but not anymore. Nothing feels the same anymore.
"How could an eighteen years old teenager know so much stuff about the world, been through alot of devastation. Stealing, death, addiction, hatred and failure? " The thought that has taken over my mind and soul for the past year. The scene of the horrific accident kept flashing in my mind, I keep living it over and over again. I can't take it anymore.
The sun starts setting down while I sit on the front porch with my favourite horror novel "Half dead", the novel that describes myself. I drift away with my thoughts, "Why didn't I work hard? why did I let everybody close to me down? why did I kill that innocent soul? Why did I trust an unworthy person? How did I become that way? Where is the old me?".
YOU ARE READING
The Girl She Was.
Short StoryShe doesn't feel like herself. Not anymore. She was different once. Now she is a watered down version, pale and thin. She slips through the cracks unnoticed. She fades into the background, afraid of saying the wrong thing. She grows sharp edges and...
