Penny Dreadful

I wish, I wish, I wish.

The tears ran hot down my face, streaking my angular cheekbones and dripping to the dampened floor. The cool blade danced across my neck, tracing patterns with the tip into my pale skin, threatening to plunge. I closed my eyes so tight my vision swirled with stars. This was the closet I could get to them outside of my dreams.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

I could feel his hot breath on the nape of my neck, his lips brushing my skin as he whispered, “My, my. What do we do with such a pretty thing?” I knew it was Peter. His voice was firm yet tender; wrapping me in its security but at the same time restricted me. He smelled like the earth.

My frail body convulsed, my breathing became shuddering. I could see darkness, creeping at the back of my mind, much deeper than a starless night, and tormenting me into its welcoming arms. I wanted this darkness. I wanted this rest.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

“Hmm…” I could feel someone picking up strands of my thick hair, heavy on my shoulders. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a girl with copper hair before…” This was Solomon, his thick fingers yanking my hair and twirling it, “Nor someone who is as easy on the eyes in all lights.”

I could smell the sweat filling his pours, his thirst dripping out with them in large drops over my shoulder. I could feel their eyes on me, burning holes into my chest, my torso, and my legs. There was no place of me their hungry eyes haven’t searched, no place that remained untouched.

“I don’t like it long.” His voice cut into the heavy air like a knife; calling the shadows and nightmares into the room as he emerged from the darkness he was born. Marcus.

“Then what will please you, Marcus?” Peter chuckled, but I could sense the drag in his voice. He was threatened by him. I could tell.

I felt my hair being tugged, someone forcing me down and pressing my face into the dirt. There was a burn ignited in the back of my skull as I was being lifted, my feet dragged in the dirt, my knees barely brushing the floor as the burning flared. There was a trickle of blood, traveling down my neck and collarbone.

As sudden as the pain started it stopped, and I was released to the floor in a crumpled heap. “Cut it.” Marcus spat. There was a cool spot from where he stood over me, my hair gleaming in his careful fingers. The last sign of who I was. Gone.

I am no one. I am lost.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

            *                      *                      *                      *                      *

I woke up to rain pattering off the small window, positioned just out of my reach, sounding like bullets bouncing off the tin roof. I missed the rain. I imagined the cool of it steaming off me, washing away the rough edges of my body, erasing the memories. The water could smooth my skin, make me seem polished on the outside, but underneath the surface the little girl waited. Her closely cropped copper hair jutting in random places, dressed in rags, her skin dotted with purple and green. She was huddled in the corner of a room dug out of the earth, last tears spent and incapable to feel.

I studied my features in my blurry reflection. My cheekbones cut through my thinning face more and more everyday, my sunken eyes drowning in a pool of purple. They were drained from whatever life I was born with, a life that was never allowed to blossom. The scars on my chin, rose slightly to the surface so I could remember everyday, they were what Peter would point to if I ever misbehaved.