Heaven's Rejects

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Life is a funeral, It makes wonder who would bother to show up. Is waking up every morning worth it. I wake up every morning and avoid the mirror, avoid speaking and most importantly avoid eye contact.

I close my eyes for a moment and let the crisp air blow against my ivory skin. Auburn streaks of hair flow lightly in the wind. Air spreads my lips slight apart, I can feel my lungs fill and deflate. I open my eyes and see a shadow behind me, I gasp slightly and turn around slowly. It seems to move with me, mimicking every move, every whisk of hair.

I feel cold hands embrace my shoulders. The fingers feel long and calloused on my bare shoulders. I bite my bottom lip and avoid a scream. The hands let go, and not even a second later a car rips around the corner. It smashes into the brick wall right before me. It bursts into flames, Shattered pieces of metal rained over me like a bad day. Lines of blood dripped from my arm as it covered my face.

I stood up, flames burned like selfish desire. I stare at this destruction in front of me. I didn't even bother to flag another car down. I ran. I let the feeling of fire absorb in my chest. It burned, but it helped, it burned the pain of rejection, it burned away the feeling of anger that I dwell in.

Drops of dark crimson tracked behind me in a trail, the scraps must have cut deep. I kept running until I reached the stained glass windowed door. I walked in quietly. Unfortunately Mrs.Victoria was standing in front of the door. She ran to me with worried eyes. "You're going to get blooded on my France imported rug" she yelps grabbed my arm. I was caught.

  I was sat on the edge of the chrome tub. The old woman was cleaning my cuts. I winced as she stuck her finger into one of the deep gashes. "Oh, Violet, how did this happen?" she asked. I had a sour stomach, as if I had bitten into a poison apple. Her whiting hair shined in the chrome faucet. I looked down to the ground, refusing eye contact. She lifted up my chin gently with her skinny boney fingers. Her eyes were emerald, as if I was staring into a spring forest. Her gaze was gentle, worried even sympathetic. I couldn't do it anymore, I got off the tub and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I felt a tad guilty for rejecting her, but eye contact felt like being in the last level of Dante's Inferno.