Spectrum

9.2: Purple

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"You're not worth anything, you waste of oxygen! You never do anything right!" The drunken couple was screaming at the girl, as she fought to keep the tears from falling out of her eyes, the moisture fogging up her glasses lens. 

"I wish you were never born! How dare you defy us like this? We give you a home, a place to sleep, an education, and you still keep on pressuring us, taking us for granted!" All the girl had done was missed school because she was sick, and neither of the two bothered to call the school, causing the absence to go down on record and her parents to be called. In fact, she was sick still, her nose stuffy and sniffling, her head pounding with the feeling of a thousand hammers being driven into her skull. 

The two drunkards staggered off into the kitchen after thoroughly insulting the girl, sending her sobbing into her room as she reached for her mobile and a knife. Pressing a sequence of numbers into the phone, she placed the electronic on speaker and waited for the boy to pick up. 

"Jonah, please pick up…" she muttered as she drew the knife across white lines on her skin, white lines that quickly turned dark; lines that made her feel numb, made her feel alive. The words her parents spoke had found a place deep in her virgin mind and festered, killing off her innocence with every attack of the blade. 

"Hello?" 

"Jonah! Please, you have to help me… Mom and Dad are drunk again… I don't know what to do!" In her childhood, Jonah had always been the one who cared about her more than the rest other siblings, yet he didn't care about her enough to do anything about this. 

"So?" The word cut through her heart like a blade, leaving her chest hurting and pained, her mouth opening slightly to pant with quiet sobs that made her eyes sting. "What do you want me to do about it?" Music pounded in the background, telling her that Jonah was at a party again. "I'm busy, Gryph. Figure it out yourself."

"But~" 

"Bye." A click could be heard across the room, and Jonah hung up. Grabbing a pen, the girl frantically scribbled a vent on a piece of paper:

'breath comes in short pants,

sobs unheard as your jaw hangs slack.

a fire burns in your chest

licking down your spine and pooling in a painful

whirlpool in your gut.

the thoughts tantalize you

darkness

darkness

your eyelashes damp

moist with an angsty brine

knees to your heart

you feel it beating, thumping aloud in your chest

faster than you can imagine

taste of vomit on your tongue

smell of copper lingering in your skin,

this is the darkness deep within.'