I can feel the eyes again,
Staring.
The ones that fix on my face and stare me down relentlessly for hours on end.
I have theories. Just one actually. The bodyless eyes and the endless staring only amounts to one thing. I am being watched.
But why?
Well... don't get me wrong, I'm not big headed or anything, but when I look in the mirror, I see beauty. I'm not trying to sound bratty, I promise.
There is a body length mirror in my white room. At the moment it only reflects white nothingness. An abyss of colour. A bright void. However, when I stand in front of it I see long flowing glossy blonde hair, large shining blue orbs of light, a sweet cherub face and a petit fragile body and all I can think of is beauty and how I'm not worth much without it.
That got me thinking though,
If all I'm worth for is beauty, perhaps my existence is just that. Only meant for beauty. A shallow life only meant for the pleasure of others.
It would make sense.
It would make a lot of sense actually.
And it explains why I'm so worthless.
And it explains the staring.
And it explains why I'm pretty.
So lately I've just been repeating that inside my head to reassure myself that I have a reason for existence, even if it is so pityable that I cry myself to sleep and claw my face till it bleeds.
But.
If i'm good.
If I behave.
Maybe they will let me out even if it is only to meet my observer. Even so, perhaps they will, so I just stare at my blank walls and repeat that in my head over and over until the wish to die fades.
Even if it's just a little faded,
It helps.
So I will hope.
YOU ARE READING
The unseen eye
General Fictiona thirteen year old girl is alone with her thoughts and the company of a guard, a mirror and her diary. she has no idea why she is even alive but when left alone thoughts are her only company. Disclaimer: this contains fictional emotive content. Sor...
