R A W
13 December 2015
3:00 a.m.
The bathroom walls were blindingly white contrasted with coal black tiles. Three-fourth of the walls was covered with glass, with a Jacuzzi pushed to the right most corner. The lights flipped on, ghosted the features of a raven haired girl, giving a hauntingly alluring appeal. Thin lines of red color coated her thighs, arms and ankles.
She had been driven to the brink of insanity by the fabrications of her own lies. The strings previously keeping her afloat were breaking apart, growing tender with each tug she did for keeping her at surface 'till they all left would be broken threads and a drowned girl.
How long could Rory Sandsburg pretend each smile? For how long could she sustain the act of a perfect life?
She covered her face with her hands; thoughts overpowering her being, prodding at her imperfections. The faults she had worked so hard to remain invisible were spiraling out; the weakness of being human taking away the numbness to be filled with pain.
Slowly she pried her hands off her face, sobs wrecking her body. She wanted relief. She wanted out of a life filled with imperfections and faults. She wanted her numbness. She wanted to disappear for today, forget everything in the past three years forever.
Her hand slowly inched towards the bloody razor laying on the floor, for her masochistic nature coveted the thin red lines it left behind. For she coveted the numbness Pretty Boy had so easily been disembarking by just being there in the mere span of thirteen days.
It was akin to stupidity. How could someone make her trust so much in just a matter of two weeks? But he made it happen. Somewhere between their phone calls and late night talks, Sebastian had done what nobody seemed to be doing for her for so utterly long.
He stayed.
And that's what made all the difference. She cautioned herself to not let him close, to push him away. But how long could she push when he kept pushing harder? For her walls were not made of the steel, as she thought they were, instead they were wrapped around her like a sheet of glass waiting for one gigantic push.
Yet she hated him. She detested him eminently. She loathed him to her very core. All because he stayed and never left. Always there, paying no attention to her intrusive curiosity. She hated him for that. Hating the way he made her have belly aching laugher. The way he made her cries to one's of happiness. The way he kept growing on her. She hated every inch of it.
She hated him because he made her feel like a Princess; made her feel like she was in a fantasy, strikingly afar from reality. The reality she would face when he called her. The reality she had been facing for the past three years.
She was frustrated with the illusion Pretty Boy had created of her being a Princess for she now grasped that she was no better than a whore; running to him at his every whim, for her fix; to escape reality. Because she had finally comprehended that she was nothing but a slave to her addiction; to her cowardice.
Hands trembling, she pulled the razor over her skin; mesmerized by the thin lines of red, adding to the ever growing collection of her humanity winning. Her thoughts slowed down as the adrenaline rush went through her. It was a high nothing could compare to. She did it again, and again and again. She did it 'till all you could make out were the various strokes of red on her arm.
She sighed, the comforting cocoon of her numbness returning, blocking out all her thoughts on her painfully reality, her addiction and Pretty Boy. Slowly getting up from her spot on the floor, she turned on the tap of the sink putting her arm under the sink.
She stared awed as the water turned red and the bitingly cold water raised goosebumps over her scarred arm. She had stopped sobbing, stopped reminiscing her encounter with him. She no longer recalled that her Father was not coming home during Christmas. But she didn't stop thinking about the pain; allowing it to engulf her mind until her problems dissipated to nothingness – Until she dissipated to nothingness.
She liked that.
Grabbing herself a towel,
she gently wiped her arm,
as a smile spread across her face.
Except this smile conveyed r a w pain.
{HI FOLKS!
Okay. So im happy with this chapter, what are your thoughts?}
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