Conversion

One and Only

Every damp morning I, Mary Jeresiah, shook from slumber and snapped my eyes wide open. Sweat dripped from my forehead to the freckles on my nose. My bright red hair lay cluttered on my fluffy white pillow.

Everyday was the same, they resulted in the same ending - Damon dropping to the ground.

A deep crimson would spread his angel-like shirt as fast as wildfire. In the few last seconds he was alive, he utters the witch's name twice. Twice, in which she was supposed to never exist.

Due to those nightmares, my everyday surroundings began to blur around me as my only focus sharpened on his face.

His olive-green eyes were with emanating innocence and his lips full and sculpted to perfection, never to be pressed against any disgusting taint.

He was my boyfriend. He's mine. Not hers, Never it's.

Each day, a bang and a thud, would break the fragile glass of dreamland when he crossed the otherside.

But, the thing is - it happened everyday. Literally. Not in dreamland, but reality. The same morning, my oval face on the mirror, the same breakfast, the same loneliness I meet each morning, the witch's distasteful visage, a dead body on the sidewalk.

Since then, I've been investigating everything around me and my angel. I've discovered how Annie Patrice sullied Damon's luminosity. She tarnished his flower for her own satisfaction in the backroom of Class 39.

However, today, I've taken a different route. I skipped school and had a rendezvous with mister killer.

As I waited for an entirety of the day, he finally walked in my view and I found myself in a very precarious situation.

"Move, bitch." A man in black leather pushed me aside - bang and thud.

My eyes snapped open. No. . . Not again. I've failed Damon.

When I grasped myself, slow and painful throbs filled my head. It hammered me to look at the horror staring at me on the face.
I'm not at home. I'm not at school. I'm not anywhere.

My body, invisible.

I recognised my lifeless body on the sidewalk, sprawled in an undignified manner.

Her flowing fiery hair; her hazelnut eyes; her oval face forward with a hole right between her eyes. I was looking at me.

It appears that the whole time that I've thought of Damon as mine was just an illusion. Nothing more than fiction. I used him to deny my very existence, my very ugly truth.

I was the psychopath who was obsessed with Damon and condemned his girlfriend.

Every single thing was a lie. It's all so vivid now. I came face-to-face with the gun barrel, unknowingly. I faced death and Death won.

Negligence and denial filled my judgement when I confessed to Damon; when I skipped school in embarrassment; when I turned to pretty drinks and illegal powders; when I destroyed a relationship as clear as water; when he only likened to my heedings as a favour from my parents to comfort my distress; when I failed to apologised.

But it's too late now as I bring myself to present time and watch the world grow blissfully without me.

It's too late for a conversion.
***********************

Hai!Hello!
This is officially my second story to ever be published on Wattpad although I've been here for years without any progress.
If the story was boring or somehow didn't make any sense, please leave a comment. I would be really grateful for a criticism right now as I'm undergoing life's rapids.
Oh well, thank you for reading all the way to this.

I hope you have a nice day. :)