Shard of Glass

She was always such a promising child. Full of potential, but perhaps a little too passionate for modern day society. None of them had seen it coming, not one of them. They knew she could be a little unstable, but she didn’t have any real issues. Just a few cuts, scratches, burns. Nothing to be worried about, or so they thought. She was alright, a laugh, it annoyed them when she got on one of those ‘rants’ though.

Silly little insignificant things, nothing of concern, just little worries about the world going to war, her self harm problem, her mental instability and her increasing pessimistic cynicism. They didn’t know how much she hated herself, but to anyone other than herself, her worries were irrelevant.
She wanted so much to get counselling, she very much doubted it would do any good, but the idea if help appealed to her. Someone who would listen who wasn’t on the other end of a phone, or an instant message. Someone who wouldn’t tell her the cuts on her arms were the most retarded thing she’d ever done. Or that she should at least pretend to be happy, then she wouldn’t take everyone else down with her. Learning to shut up and stop expecting ‘friends’ to be able to help was one of the few valid lessons she had learnt. Ironically it had been taught to her by possibly the best friend she would ever have. The one so far away. But all this was beside the point, as not even he had seen it all coming. It was also too far beyond the straight-A exterior for the shallow excuses for friends she had.

***

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” Again and again she screamed at the lost girl staring back at her. Tears streamed down the girl’s face, as she silently watched her estranged twin scream at her, over and over. Tearing at her hair, her face red, and her eyes swollen, her features contorted in rage, her mouth hurling abuse. Her whisper of a twin didn’t speak; she had seen it too many times before.
“Stop this… can’t you do something? Help, me, please… just help…” she slumped down to the ground, her body wracked with sobs once more, barely aware of her guest echoing her movements. All she ever did was copy. She never answered her hostess, never gave the help she screamed for, just stared back in silence, always in cold, cruel, silence.
Curled up on the ground, exhausted and blinded by her desperation, the only thing the girl could be glad for was the fact that she had the house to herself. Guilt took a hold as her rage tired itself and left. All she could think about was how stupid she was. How dare she cry when people were out there fighting for her, dying for her, in the war she had dreaded her whole life. Snatching her hair heatedly out of her eyes, the sharp movement duplicated by her silent watcher made her jump. Shocked by the sight of her tear-stained twin, she felt resent and anger at herself burn raw in her throat. Anger at herself for letting the silent girl get into such a state; she was her responsibility because no one else would look after her. Feeling her body stiffen and her fist clench at her side, she smashed her fist into the watching girl’s face. Blood streamed down her arm as the smashed mirror fell piece by piece out of the frame, taking her silent reflection with it.

*Hey. I’m still quite new here, so any comments or criticism is more than welcome :)*

~Lady~