Short Stories

Beauty

warning- dark situations and language.

"You like the idea of her, just the thought of beauty in your mind."

"Amelia, are you ready to talk about the accident?" A young woman with a high ponytail and fake diamond earrings, sits in a plush chair across from the girl. The woman has distinct posture; chin held up and legs crossed one over the other with her shoulders back. Her name in Martha Daine. She was a detective.

The girl across from her is the complete opposite, with her hands cupped on her lap, shoulders closed in and she had her head down. Her name is Amelia. She thinks that the longer she stares at her hands, the easier it will be to open up. But it doesn't work like that. Life throws curve balls and shit storms and doesn't offer anyone a chance for the easy way out.

"I...I remember," Amelia stops her short sentence, licking her dry lips and looking up past her eyelashes to Martha. Amelia's hair wasn't down or in a ponytail, because she has no hair. All she has is a broken heart and an inability to look in the mirror.

"Go on Amelia." Martha prompts, clicking her pen and scribbling three words onto her some-what professional looking document paper.

"I remember the screeching." She stops, pausing after giving as little information as she could to stop a memory from crowding itself into her mind.

"Of people? The report says it was you and your-" Martha stops herself, clearing her throat. It doesn't help mush, Amelia knew what was going to come out of Martha's perfectly lined lips.

"No, of metal." She finally looks up with desperate eyes, her face nearly making Martha loose her composure, despite seeing it in the reports. It looked bad in the image, her skin mangled and bruised, one eye was completely gone and was just a black hole. But up close, the wounds had healed and scared over - the road marks on the left side of her face looking more like tire marks. Amelia wore glasses with a black lens to hide the empty socket, but the detective could imagine what was under the lens.

Martha cleared her throat once again and sighed. "What else Amelia?" She asked, trying to dig deeper, trying to lift the weight off of this poor girl's shoulders who didn't deserve what had happened to her.

The scaring on Amelia's head itches, the old memory of fifty-two stitches a constant reminder of what happened next. "I- I don't remember," she lies, her tongue between her teeth.

Martha sighs, feeling pity, the girl on the couch in front barely looked human. "I don't want your pity." Amelia says and the detective looks at the girls eye, furrowing her eye brows.

"But I didn't-"

"No. It radiates off of you, like some kind of disease." Amelia interrupted and stands up abruptly, pain clawing up her thigh as her leg threatened to give out.

"I.." Martha stops herself from saying she was sorry. "Have you drawn anything lately?" She asks instead.

Amelia pauses on her way toward the door, hand on the knob. "Yes." She opens her bag and lets a paper fall on the floor. It was a sketch of herself; bruises and all. She then opens the door and looks down to the carpet floor before she left. "I drew beauty."

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Bleh, first short story. It's not the best but I tried. Enjoy I guess XD

(Made this as I listened to a full album of NF so yeah XD)