The Darkened Whispers...

》Chapter 3《

7 am. 1 hour until I have to get out of the house. My closet moans as I open it as if I tore its stomach to either side like the Viking blood eagle. I look at the coats of armour to guard me against watchful eyes. " I can't look like I'm asking for it, "I say to myself with sadness and fear swelling up, coursing its path throughout my body. I pick dresses and skirts and crop tops but fear washes over me as I think of the scarring worst. 'they'll think I'm a slut'. Tears once again call at my eyes. I groan in frustration. Hugging my knees, I tried to evade the panic that claws my skin, begging for permission. The ocean once again washed over me, drowning me. Suffocation caused me to look up. Colours of fabrics surrounded me like the spinning of a tornado. " I can't look like I'm asking for it"I repeat. His hands touch me distastefully, leaving rashes and tingles of torture. I tremble as the vomiting darkness corrupts me forcefully letting the horrors of hallucinations blast towards me with the glistening enjoyment of the devils' eyes. His ruff lips trace my neck leaving hangings of crippling strangulation. My body felt like a weak sex object unable to objectify against anything that is done to 'it'. Voices spill into my head like grains of ragged sand. His-.'Stop it'. I yell inside my head the command, forcing myself to crawl to the pit of hell and grab something else. An over-sized hoodie and top disguising my curves perfectly. The ripped jeans that overlay my legs are the only thing that shows my figure. No one will notice, right? Who am I kidding?

I race to the bathroom, fixing my long hair into a messy bun. I wash my face with striking cold water, closing my eyes I see the torturing torment. Drying my face, I check if my forbidden scars are visible and taint them with foundation, not bothering with anything else. The dark circles conveying with the clear lack of sleep I've had for the past few years. I look at myself in the mirror... the me through the mirror doesn't look like me anymore. I lost myself in the abyss of nightmares a long time ago. The me in the mirror lost its flame of determination in the eyes, the body that stands there is more skinny and used as transport to get from point A to point B. The me in the mirror lost its confidence, the great true smiles of happiness. The me in the mirror is unrecognizable to the me 2 years ago. Fuck it, make that 3. The whole true meaning of me is gone. Lost forever.

The depression sinks deeply into my skin, moisturizing it with cruelty. Growing up in this world as a girl is more dangerous than war. The predators lurking around every corner, awaiting their next victim. Dressing up and looking beautiful comes with drastic possibility's of being accused of 'asking for it'. But how can a girl be asking to be raped? The question that seems to never be answered due to its absurdity. To keep my mind sane, I take - and swallow- my pills. Walking out, I put my socks and shoes on and disappear down the stairs-leaving Elizabeth upstairs for grandma to take care of. The kitchen once again meets me but with a soft scent of coffee obstructing the blandness. Granddad, a 6ft man with curly grey hair softly covering his head and wrinkles clearing telling a tale of aged stories, sits alone at the kitchen table reading the newspaper whilst drinking his daily coffee. His plaid brown shirt always made him look like one of those farmers on a American TV show. Although his age tells differently, his health is still strong and so works as an engineer full-time. Grandma still trying to find out how he's still so youthful.

The morning sun shines brightly through the slight musty windows.

"morn-in," I say whilst making myself a cuppa.

"morn-in, how'd you sleep?" he responded, with his wary eyes interested on me.

" whatcha ya think, horribly as always" tiredness seeping through my voice clear as day.

"I see the nightmares are still creepin' up on you," he says with unnecessary concern since I've been having them ever since I've been living here.

"not much of a surprise is it" stating matter-of-factly.

He nods meekly in response with that strange look on his face. Concern? Confusion? Assessment? Somewhere along those lines. His ocean coloured eyes roared with mixed emotions.

"look, what happened to little Annabelle and your mother isn't your fault. You have to stop feeling guilty for it. Ben was the one who-"I cut him off before he could say anything else, before I can remember it clearly-picture it.

"you keep repeating that as if I will eventually believe it, "I say with my back towards him, sipping my tea, staring at the slow-moving clock; so slow moving that it would make you think that it was trying to make you nervous.

"Erina-" he says with hope strained in his voice.

"This conversation is over. I have to go, I'll see you tomorrow since your working late. Goodbye." Annoyance clear in my voice with the slightest hint of sadness which you would only hear if you were paying extreme attention to.

Grabbing my grey cloak, I put it on; chucking my bag over my shoulder. I race out of the door but before I slam it, I hear a faint whisper saying 'have a nice day at school'. Yeah, sure I will. Taking my keys out of my cloak pocket, I unlock my red 2004 ford focus. Goodness me, just because I go to college, doesn't mean I rain ballsacks. Igniting the ignition, I drive off the driveway; leaving the 2 story grumpy mess of a house behind. The paint already coming off ever so slightly but the plants convey with the grey mistakes that cover it. Grandma always loved gardening. It always kept her busy. But now it is unkeeped due to my being there.