The Ocean Blue Door

Part 3: Outside the Blue Door

The innocent days of frivololity were happy days. The loving words her mother smothered her with. The warmth of her father's big hand ruffling her hair. This love.

She lost everything. The love became agonising and painfully slow, turned into a soft harsh reminder. It whispered in the back of her mind of the days she lost, of the days she can't get back. She lost everything and closed her eyes. When she reopened them, it was already too late. A strange city she had opened her eyes to. An extensive area filled with crumbling buildings and strangling vines that creeped along the walls. She was lost. She had walked, tracing her way through the maze and had come to a halt. A blue door had called out to her. A gravity seemed to pull her towards it. Every step taken, the stronger it was and before she knew it, she had turned the icy knob. This beautiful blue door that called to her was the unleashing of this agony and glory. It was her trip to salvation.

She stared longingly at the closed blue door, but she couldn't move. Her feet, her body, her cells, every fiber of her being kept her glued there. It couldn't go. It didn't want to go. She needed this. This lust for destruction. It lulled her mind and made her forget the happiness she so dearly yearned for, yet didn't. In fact, this lost happiness fueled the ambers of this hatred. She didn't want reassurance, she wanted revenge. With a jaggered breath, she stood. The blood caked around her arm had long dried already.

No more love. She will bear the weight of hatred and the consequences that come with it.

She breathed. She no longer felt suffocated.