Valencia

C h a p t e r 40: Innocence

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Valencia

When life turns to be unfair

C h a p t e r 40: Innocence.

There is no absolute truth.

Each one of us has a truth of their own, should never be denied and should never be totally believed.

Fate can be an act you make or a result of an act you didn't do. In the end, it starts with you, to end up with whoever you dragged along.

"Seems like being locked in a small uncomfortable room is my fate." A soft mutter came out of Valencia's mouth as if she was looking at the roof in total darkness

She passed her hand on her craved tattooed skin and smiled.

I wish I told him the real story behind this tattoo. Maybe he would've told me he'll end up betraying me.

Her smile wasn't sincere and she was glad she can't be seen.

Her smile showed so much sadness...so much sorrow...so much pain...so much reality.

And that's how her mind travelled back with her to a memory she prayed to forget. A memory that will always be craved in her soul and her skin.

After they took away what was left of her innocence and left the house. They walked away, taking the dead body with them, leaving whatever came out of it on the carpet.

She didn't care. Valencia just kept gazing at her hair on her face, not caring how messy it is, just finding pleasure in losing herself in the only part of her body that she doesn't feel.

Her whole body was aching.

Her whole soul was bleeding.

She didn't want to move. She embraced the pain she was feeling as she was lying on the couch where a part of her decided to leave her.

She smelled awful but that was nothing compared to her evaporated soul.

Some moments are never meant to be forgotten, some others aren't meant to be remembered.

But what if the moment is stuck in between? It should be forgotten but the only thing you're doing is remembering it.

That's what was happening.

She stopped dazing off and stood up quickly. Her eyes fell on the blood on the carpet, but she immediately looked away, to find herself facing a mirror.

"Who are you?" her voice was cracked, almost silent. She was shocked at how vulnerable and sick she sounded. It was as if she was yelling nonstop for days.

Well, it felt like it anyway...

She touched the mirror, passing her hand over her face's reflection.

Nail marks and bites were everywhere wherever she looked.

Her eyes scanned her body quickly and she felt the urge to vomit.

Who was this girl?

She felt a tear fall down, burning the new wounds.

And that's when she fell on the floor, crying, tearing her clothes.