BROKEN

PROLOGUE

VANESSA SPENCER

It's been three months after the...the...cataclysm?

I have been tired? Mad? Guilty?

No. I do not feel a thing.

Emotionless. That is what I feel right now.

The ombre blue painted walls in my room have paled out. There is not the shine left in them as it once was. Or maybe, it's because light hasn't entered my room in the past three months.

I live, sleep and eat in darkness. Not once had I thought how beautiful the darkness was. It was my escape. 

I do not want to live in this world, there isn't the gleam and the tinge of madness left to it. 

Everything is monochromatic, without any flavor or taste. 

I haven't showered since...I have lost the count of days. Nobody has talked to me since that happened. Not that they didn't want to, it was me. I shut them out. 

It is for their own good. Everything I touch eventually dies. I have had enough of this...enough of believing...enough of hope.

Every time a ray of hope ignites in me, I watch it gradually diminish...fade. 

What good is then believing in it? When it will be taken from me soon? Why do I trust anyone, when I know they would end up hurting me? 

Or maybe...It would be me. I would burn them, incinerate them, destroy them. 

I don't know what the time is right now. As I said earlier, the lights are switched off, the curtains are drawn. Only specks of sunlight stream through the cracks of the curtains, enough to tell me it's sometime in noon. 

Not like I care anyways.

My room's door opens and immediately light strews in my room. I shut my eyes, not able to take the intensity of it. After I hear the click of the door shut, I slowly open my eyes. 

A maid is standing in front of me. A tray in her hand on which a plate full of food is served.

Wordlessly, I point to the chair. She understands and quietly keeps it there. But she doesn't leave, she just stares at me with a pitiful expression plastered on her face. I stare back at her, daring her to speak.

Pity, isn't what I desire at the moment. It's loneliness.

But she doesn't. After a few moments, she just leaves the room silently. As the door opens again, I shut my eyes and...listen. The house is quiet too.

Then Elizabeth and dad must be out of town. 

I sigh and and crawl towards the chair. Settling the tray on my knees, I chew the tortilla roll. Finishing that, I gulp huge amounts of water and crawl back on my bed.

Wedging the pillow between my legs, I close my eyes. 

Images flash instantaneously. Horrible and filthy images of...death.

Not able to take it anymore, I open my eyes and hot tears stream down my face. 

I do not want to live here. It's too painful. 

Getting up, I withdraw a pair scissors from my drawer. Caressing it gently, I place it's tip on my wrist. 

Taking a deep breath, I drag it on my skin. It initially stings, but after a while the pain becomes bearable. It's not even pain after a few moments, it's just...nothing.

It's deep enough to make cuts, draw blood out. But not deep enough, to puncture my vessels. I am too much of a coward to do that.

That is all I am.

Coward.

Murderer.

Burden.

Broken.

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SO THAT'S THE FIRST CHAPTER! 

I WILL TELL WHO ELIZABETH IS IN THE NEXT CHAP.

P.S. THIS IS THE PERIOD OF VANESSA'S LIFE WHEN SHE SHUTS HERSELF OUT. AKA THIS IS ALSO THE DAILY ROUTINE SHE PRACTICES ON THE DURATION OF THAT ONE YEAR.

TELL ME HOW YOU LIKE THE CHAP! 

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