The Watching Game [On Hold]

The Watching Game

It is evident that human beings are drawn to elements that appear out of the ordinary. For probable instance, when one is instructed strictly to refrain from the doing of a specific action, he/she is prone to enacting it at an immediate time frame. They seldom avert the action. Although an astonishingly peculiar fact, it is most certainly one of complete and utter truth. In such a method, life itself, the action of living, is a tournament, perhaps a simple word defining it as a “game.” If most common, a game is a pattern not always effortless to follow.

However, I am not human.

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Her body, bloodied and soiled on the frigid tile, shook with agony. She whimpered softly, her champagne toned locks positioned themselves around her features, matted with crimson. She was human. It was necessary to eliminate her. She was inferior. A flaw, a crisis that could not persist. Yet, it was not of my actions that she lay here, as if she had so recently lost a battle that was not hers to win to begin with. I pitied her.

I was one of youth at the time, only about twelve, or perhaps thirteen. I bent down to examine her. If her eyes had been opened, it was most likely a fact that they would hold a vacancy indescribable. I marveled at her smooth, pearly complexion. She was nothing more than a doll of sorts, a china miracle, with silky white-gold hair, pin straight, thriving full of choppy layers and unsmooth cuts. It was incredibly fine, and glided gently down her back. If I had the opportunity to venture my touch through it, I imagined it would have a feel of purely satin and would weigh less than a feather. It ended halfway down her back, and reached just below her chest in the front. Soft bangs gently swept themselves across her forehead.

Her skin was truly porcelain, flawless, without bump or unnecessary curve.

Her body, although shapeless and quite tiny, was almost adorable in such a sense. Although her chest was completely flat, she held beauty in another sort of method. I noticed her height couldn’t reach taller than, oh, 5 foot? And her legs, which were rather long for her size, were cascaded behind her, as she lay there, slumped on the recently rose-splattered floor. And then, it occurred.

Oh, it did. My heart seized in my chest, beating furiously like a chorus of angels with drums. Her shut eyelids, once devoid from vision extemporaneously flew open, batting a few times to absorb her surroundings accurately. Those eyes, ample in size and thousands of meters in depth, were most definitely capable of yanking me in, by my shirt, and tossing me effortlessly into her soul, a location of which could only be comprehended by the those bathed in absolute fortune. If I had been so lucky… Deep blue, as though they were the artic ocean, and darkened around the edges, a natural liner of mystery, they promised a view unspeakably lovely. What I would have sacrificed to be pulled into her luminescent gaze, for merely a soft moment more.

As my body was now leaning over her doll-like figure, I was at loss of control. I brought my head towards hers, and pressed my lips against her own, parting them slightly in the process. Before my eyelids fell, I gazed once more into those pools of everlasting blue, taking them in. Through her touch I could nearly experience her own heart beating, so heavily in her chest. The blood on her lips, sweet and inviting, drew me in closer, before I came to the realization that this was certainly not superior of an action. Quickly, I threw myself backwards, launching myself away from her frozen body, her vision that seemed so utterly confused it was criminal.

She was human.

Her flesh was innocent, without shame and rage written over her veins, now soaked with silent poison. If I’d dare to affiliate myself with this girl, this, well, angel of sorts, I’d endanger her at the very least- if not let her life fade at my own blood-stained fingertips. Her blood, painted delicately upon my lips, tasted sweetly of strawberries, as did her essence. I drank in her breathtaking appearance once more, before I came to the conclusion to help her. I cleaned her wounds, and laid her in what I assumed was her bedroom, on her mattress. Her eyes were shut, yet I had knowledge that she was silently taking note of my footsteps, my breath, my heart.