Greeting Insanity

chapter nineteen

 

The folds of the dress glimmered in the blinding light of the open room. Reyna looked truly stunning in the light blue evening gown. Her simple attire consisted of her dress that wrapped around her chest in a heart shaped neckline, sloping downward toward her hips, hugging them gently. Subtly releasing her body, the fabric flowed around her feet, leaving a train in her wake. She tiptoed around the marble flooring, Jason on her arm, her maroon stilettoes clicking consistently. Without Emma's relentless mothering, Reyna felt truly free. She looked over gigantic canvases full of intricate portraits, magical scenery, meaningful coloration. Reyna looked from station to station, tugging Jason like a rag doll, him following with a smile. She could feel his stare on her as she gazed at the magnificent artistry. The affection that radiated from Jason, was certainly contagious. Others, strangers, could feel the admiration and passion he held for the blonde. He and Reyna had stopped to admire many of the artists exhibits, giving their admirations.

Tugging him slowly toward the opening of the next room, Reyna led the way to what would essentially be her biggest mistake. Stepping in the room, all Reyna could recognize was white. The horrid white stained everything surrounding her. The paintings all were themed with the nasty shade of distain. She pushed on, ignoring the presented art, only for her gaze to fall on the lovely couple taking ownership of it. The man was rather handsome, but all forms of attraction melted away at his all white wardrobe, as well as the gorgeous lady at his side. The two both sported the all-white wardrobe, reflecting the presented artistry. The theme was clear, Reyna's eyes widening in disgust. Her head boomed widely, warning her of the strong feeling of helplessness. Tumbling forward, she loosened her grip around Jason's arm, halting his forming smile. Reyna attempted to close her eyes to hide herself from the hateful glare of white, only to be met with the horrors of her past life. Smoke filtered into her senses, clogging her nostrils, burning her irises. She knew it wasn't real. She knew, but all reason fled with her sanity. Images of her former foster parents flashed in front of her shielded lids. She could faintly feel herself walking, moving, somewhere. In reality, Jason had become aware of a forming problem, exiting them from the premises as quick as possible. Out the front door of the stunning building, Reyna broke from his grasp again, stumbling into the street. She fell to her knees, most likely scraping them brutally. Jason jumped into the oncoming traffic, waving his hands, signaling them to stop. As people turned on their emergency lights, people climbed out of their respected vehicles to watch the show. Reyna had now begun screaming as images of glass shattering filtered into the smoke.

"You pathetic...animal!" He slapped her again. David Thompson, a vile man, who only ever saw a young girl whom he could use while his wife was away, slapped her hard on her left cheek. Tereasa Thompson, his wife, was constantly working, leaving the man needy and dependent on small Reyna for pleasure.

"No! Please, please don't!" She felt as though she was constantly begging for the man to stop, he always did. The bald headed, muscle toned man wasn't horrid, she could see the realization on his scruffy face whenever he went too far. He always went too far.

"No! You stop!" Today however, he wasn't having it. The middle-aged man, was pink with need, his shirtless form standing in front of her, brandishing the sight of him unbuttoning his pants, into her mind.

"How dare you hit me, girl." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Whilst he first grabbed her wrist, she knew immediately what was to happen. The never-ending quarreling, her tearstained face, his horrified one, turning with a huff. So, to prevent the unavoidable fate, Reyna hit the older man, leaving her in her current state. Crumbled on the floor, in nothing but her fuzzy purple bathrobe, sobbing hysterically. Reyna moved to scream for him to stop again, he had never gotten this far, when the look appeared. The horrified look of self-pity and hatred.

"You're leaving in the morning." Again, he turned with a huff.

His hands were on her. They were everywhere. She felt the hand of someone warm, but she felt the harsh brush of his uniform, as blue crowded her white vision. Police. Repeating the action of pushing him off her, she grazed his gun. This time, she was not nearly as aware, as conscience, as she had been when she was a slapping eight-year-old. With the gun in her freckled hand, she felt the absence of his presence, assuming that he had backed off. White filled her vision again, bright lights flashing. She was still on the ground, her hands and knees, attacked by the asphalt. She took the weapon in her hand, waved it around wildly, not being able to see her surroundings behind the assaulting white. And pulled the trigger.