She paints a pretty picture, but with a heartbreaking twist. Her paintbrush was her razor, her canvas her wrist. She paints fast, pressing hard against her canvas in a beautiful red. Her pretty picture is fading quite slowly on her arm. There is no more blood running through her so she can no longer do harm. She painted a pretty picture, but this story has a twist. Her mind was her razor and her heart was her wrist. He never listened when she said she was was drowning, he just laughed and said learn how to swim. He said I'm here for you, but then he's nowhere to be found. He has made her cry over and over again, never once apologized. He expects her to be right behind him at all times, but she's scared.
Part of Calla wants to die tonight, part of her wants it to be an accident, and part of her wants somebody to notice to stop her. Maybe if anyone could truly see what Kameron did to her, people wouldn't be so reluctant to leave. Maybe if someone would notice the things they do to her they would see why she wants to leave. Calla can't decide if she actually wants to stay or if she can fade away and go.
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Exerts of a Story I'll Never Write
RandomThese are just multiple times I've written and have no clue what to do with them... Some bits are true while others are not. Good luck trying to decipher reality from fiction because I can't even do that..... All the characters are mine ⚠⚠⚠⚠TRIGGER...
