She was just barely 18. Her beauty should have peaked in her youthful years; it would have with others who had such a striking body. Her rosy cheeks, soft with love. Her hair, like rays of the brightest sunshine. Her skin, the palest white, like virgin snow that had fallen on a window pane in deep winter. her eyes should have been the most breathtaking blue, like a sea of shimmering sapphires, two perfect stars in the blackest of nights. Her room filled with pictures and letters from family and friends. Party pictures and old concert tickets stuck to the corners of her vanity mirror, her walls a ballerina pink with millions of posters of her favorite bands. A faint smell of baby powder and hairspray from the morning before still lingering in the air. Her life should have been a perfect world of warm love and happiness.
She sat in front of her old vanity mirror. The glass missing its pictures and colors. The metal vanity stole she sat on was hard and uncomfortable. She was silent as she stared back at the ghostly figure in the mirror before her. No longer was the room a beautiful palace of happiness, the room had quickly taken a feeling that could of been described as a erie dungeon cell. The walls grey and cracked, posters hung lifelessy as if ready to fall any second now. The grand and maginificant bed was no longer inviting and pleasurable. She turned as the rain began to pound on the window pane. The black clouds darkened her room, her day, and her life.
The cold icy wood floor was slick under her bare feet, her body shaking with cold and fear every few minutes. She grabbed the rigid corner of the vanity and reached for the drawer, the metal handle as cold as the fingers of death. The top of the table was not cluttered by letters and phone numbers cascading in puddles around the telephone and picture frames. A plain clear glass vase, holding a single limp red rose that was dry and drained of life and a picture frame turned around showing only its black back was all that occupied the top of the table.
The mirror was broken and smeared, the fact that she could see her reflection made it another sinister object in the already emotionless room, the crack ran wildly up the middle of the mirror. The spilt twisting her face, making already unhappy features come to life. Her tiny, Pasty hand slowly worked its way toward the mirror. With her bare hand she began to scrub, first weakly, Her small hand hardly touching the glass. Then anger took over her body. She began to shake and she tried to dig her non-existing nails into the cracks. She suddenly stopped, for she could see the reflection of herself again, which was just another one of the many additions to the gloomy room that made it harder to bare.
She stared hard, her eyes completely in a trance staring at the vision in front of her, seeing that it brought back the fear and lost hope of the vanity mirror and the room. The silence was broken as she stared with strained eyes. She screamed, her voice deafening. Her eyes now danced over the image standing before her. The image she saw was the most menacing creature she had ever seen.
Its clothes were a chalky white, its body a colorless being, its presence was the only thing in the room not darkened, or at least so it seemed. See scanned her thin colorless t-shirt, her eyes stuck on how thin her body was. Her tiny hands touched the cold material of the shirt, feeling the cold stickiness of a tiny spot of blood that was almost black. Her endowments were now only a larger distraction between her shoulders. She moved her finger down her arm slowly, and clamped down tightly on her petite wrist, her stubby nails pricking and stabbing her thin flesh allowing a tiny bit of blood to trickle down. She glanced and the tiny pool forming on the floor.
As she lowered her head a tiny tear of blood fell from her eyes and joined the pool of blood on the floor. These tears had become a common thing with her since yesterday. She cried, unknown and unloved by everyone she once knew, her stomach twisting in pain as the finger nail did in her flesh. Now completely clear of pain, she ran her fingers over the picture frame that sat on the vanity table, the photo sending a new river down her face.
It is now summer and three weeks had passed since she had any contact with him. The soft hum of his voice still hung clear in her mind. His figure was stuck in her in her memory. He too was thinking of her, even though he was so far away from her, in Europe. He was her friend, her life, her love. His words were the only comfort in her cold stormy world. He had left her side when she had needed him the most, on that fateful night, when she needed his words and warm embrace.
She cried because she couldn’t bear to let him see her like this. It was her twisted mind that would leave her alone in this time of need, all because of that night and what it was doing to her body. A few moments went by with no tears, and then her evil thoughts took over her body once more. She lifted her head and glanced at her new body. She then broke into more tears, the bloody tears of her broken heart falling softly on the back of the picture frame. She began to stroke it slowly with her icy fingers, with each stroke more tears of pain followed.
The rain continued to pound harder as she turned to look out the window. Her once beautiful eyes, no longer a sea of life, were dry and dead. She then noticed her cheeks, drained of color and merriment, now pale and well defined. Her whole face was this way, pale and full of darkness and death. Her hair was now the palest blonde, no more the color of sunshine. Her lips, dead and dry, she shivered in the icy room. Her ears were lost in the snake like strands of hair. She placed the dead rose back in the vase, her hands now hovering over her bleeding wrist.
She wasn’t frightened by the blood; in fact it gave her a strange hungering feeling. She quickly looked away from her arm and she reached for one of the drawers on her vanity. The handle causing her already icy skin to tingle. She slowly pulled a letter out that she had already written and laid it on the vanity top. Her attention turned again to her wrist, to the slow steady blood flow, hitting the ground and collecting in a pool at her feet.
Shaking, she grasped her wrist in a tight hold. Blood began to seep from the cut. She slowly lifted her wrist to her mouth. Her eyes darted and stared into the mirror as she bit down softly and began to drink from her arm. The childish fear struck her again, Along with the thought of her actions. She stopped suddenly and began to look on both sides of herself, paused and looked straight into the mirror.
Her eyes had became glossy again and her lips were plump and bright red. She glanced up at the cracks on the ceiling, her head floating in ecstasy. At that moment the window suddenly burst open. Rain pelted the floor. The dusty lace curtains danced in the whipping wind. She stood up, sending the picture frame to the floor. She raced to the window, clamped her boney fingers to the window panes, her hair a flying mess, blinding her sight. She pushed them shut with a loud bang as the glass shook. The waltzing curtains died and returned to their resting place over the window. She walked towards her vanity as she glanced at the window and continued on her way.
There was no way she could turn away from what she must do. She picked up the letter, silently read over it and gently folded it up. Her wind blown hair looked enchanting with her death like seductiveness. As she was reaching for the envelope her body began to shake. She dried her tears and stumbled to her feet. Grabbing her bathrobe and slippers with half minded thoughts she quickly slid them on and walked towards her bedroom door……
not finished yet…but here is the first chap. more to come soon. lemme know what you think