With freckled skin slowly concealed using the pearlescent paints, my lips quickly quirked into a meek smile which melted over my features, lightly tugging on the corners of my lips. I used the textured sponge over my knee, imitating the marks across my arms and throat with careful precision. A mix of pale blues, pinks and purples melded together with their metallic tinge, a harmony of colours emerging when the pale light streaming through the pure white blinds hit them. The shadow of a small cactus plant was cast across the light hardwood floors, a small contrast to the paleness of both the room and my skin.
The paints were opaque enough for them to coat the nebulas that already splayed across my milk body; over the protruding hipbones; around the delicate curve of my shoulder; wrapped around my neck like a noose held taut. My fingers shook with each gentle press of the sponge against my skin, the smile from before lingering as a memory but no longer there physically.
A harsh bang from downstairs brought me out of my thoughts, and I was again faced with reality. The paint fumes intoxicated me. My head felt heavy, tipping down to my shoulder as my eyes drooped shut, the sponge falling from my delicate fingers. His foot steps hammered against my ears, the impending doom of what I knew would come. Of what always did. Eyes still shut I didn't see him enter, only felt the claws wrap around my throat and the fangs spit at my face with each obscene shout of distaste.
A harsh yank back into reality.
My eyes snapped open to his snarling jaws in my face, inches away from my own and foaming in fury. My own features scrunched up as the jury of my soul yelled to let go. Our shadows melded together into one. His punch caressed my cheek like that of a bullet would, tearing through the shield I convinced myself I had. I froze. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, but the contact forced me into submission and the thoughts of leaving were demolished much like my soul, my very essence destroyed.
He left much like how he arrived; all loud noises and yelling. After his final attack (a hairbrush projectile mimicking the metal or an arrow) he slammed the door, reverberations stunning me as tears cascade down my pale and fearful face.
No; it wasn't the first time, and not would it be the last. But one day I would get out, I had that hope. I would not be trapped by the beast forever, and that it what kept me going.
