Chapter Twenty Four: Whispered Visions
STATUS: Not Edited.
"Bodies have their own light which they consume to live: they burn, they are not lit from the outside."
― Egon Schiele
Third Person Perspective:
''I-I...I don't...I don't..."
''Everyone hates you.''
''I-I kn-know-''
''You're just a waste of space.''
''B-But..." the girl fell silent as she stared at her trembling hands with blurry vision, ''Í don't...I don't...it's too s-soon...''
''The world would be so much better without you in it.
Didn't you swear you heard them mutter that beneath their breath every time they passed you? Weren't you sure of it?''
"I-I...''
''Darling, what about your sorrows? Would you want to live your entire life, crippling beneath its weight? Your family would hate you- or, do they already? All you do is waste their time and money.''
''Th-that...that,'' the girl bit into her lip as the tears she had been clinging on spilled from the edges of her eyes. That voice in her head was right.
She was just a waste.
She was just a waste.
And the waste needs to be taken out.
''So will you do it?'' the voice asked, ''Will you finally rid the world of your painful existence?''
She would.
She would.
''I will,'' she thought as she raised the knife to her wrist, she thought.
—
''No, no, no, no!'' the lady cried as she embraced the cold, limp body in her arms, ''My baby, my baby...n-no!''
She could hardly believe it.
The child she had loved, nurtured and raised...the child she had sworn had eyes that were made of the essence of life itself, stared back at her with eyes of that screamed with the vacancy of the dead.
''No!'' she murmured over and over and over again, in the vain hopes that whenever she would say it, maybe, just maybe, she could feel the warmth of her beautiful daughter again; hear her sweet laugh or her clicking her tongue as she disagreed with her.
''Co-come back...oh, honey...pl-please, don't-...don't....'' she whispered between heart wrenching, hoarse sobs as she clung to her daughter's body.
''You did this,'' a terrifyingly familiar voice murmured and her bloodshot eyes up towards the source of it.
''Y-You-'' she murmured, her eyes widening to a size almost impossible for the average human eye to widen at.
Before her stood a lady with features she could not describe; they twisted, turned and morphed and each convulsion sent an arrow of unadulterated fear straight through her heart and at the same time, a pulse of longing through her. The lady was a mesmerizing combination of beauty and terror.
''Hello, love,'' the lady grinned from her spot on the tip of the roof. She leaped off it like an expert gymnast, before she skipped towards the pair of them, her naked body -that held no color, yet at least a thousand at the same time- glinting beneath the light, ''Did you like my little present? At first I wasn't sure what you would think of it but then,'' she crouched and lifted a few strand's of the dead girl's hair before she let it fall from between her fingers, ''I remembered how you left me hanging. How you never even paid.'' The mother shook with fear and tried to move her daughter's head away from the creature, when she realized that she had been paralyzed by her own fear.
YOU ARE READING
Fiercer Than Fire
Fantasy''Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.''...
