Cold As Ice
  • Reads 340
  • Votes 20
  • Parts 10
  • Time 53m
  • Reads 340
  • Votes 20
  • Parts 10
  • Time 53m
Ongoing, First published Nov 17, 2018
I don't have the luxury of feeling emotions.

My life's been rough, but no one cares. Hell, even I don't care. I'm living on my own terms now.

My crystal blue eyes stare back at me from the mirror on my wall. It's time. I grab my clutch and pull my short red dress down to about mid-thigh, knowing it'll ride back up soon anyway. One last glance in the mirror, checking my makeup. The gold eyeshadow shines from behind my long, black lashes and my dark red lipstick complements my dress. It'll work.
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Loved U Yeserday

12 parts Ongoing

"Go! Just... go okay?!" As she miserably forced me out and slammed the door before me, the gentle breeze the door made upon the faint collision, bracing my forehead. Tears began streaming from her eyes and she fought desperately to keep them back, like the last droplets of water to reluctantly seap from a tap. My heart sank, ripping apart as it did. I hated seeing her like this, hated whenever we fought, hated how I was always at fault... How'd I get here? I promised myself I wouldn't fall, not again... not ever. What has become of that? She's the first person since---well, my past---that has been able to break down the prison walls I had built, and force her way into the bunker I had buried my heart in. She's the first person to actually tolerate the desolate state in which she found my heart. First person not to run away at the sight of it's frozen, shattered, hurt core. She picked up the broken pieces and took her time to put them back together, no matter how sharp they were or how much they sliced and jabbed at her, no matter how much I try to destroy her... I came to this university in seek of education, a better future for my family, it seems the pleasures of not having mother pouring down my neck and romances have distracted me from my goals. I knew I didn't have another heated fight in me today, so I braced for the stairs... as my fingers graced the smooth, steel skin of the rails, I turned back. Hesistating to knock at her door again, I pushed it wide open and let myself in. She had been waiting for me, tears still running down her face, despite her rigorous attempts to stop them. "What took you so long?" She said, as a cheeky smile tugged at her lips. I grabbed her by the waist, elevated her onto the kitchen island as she wrapped her legs around me, and we began the somewhat toxic cycle all over again---with the final stage... a passionate make up session.