shattered glass was all that was visible; all that was in front of me. broken pieces of glass; broken vases, broken beer bottles, broken picture frames. where am i?
trying not to step on any glass, i tip toe across the hall. as i am walking, i see that the walls are quite broken too — seems as if someone was using them as a punching bag. the remaining picture frames are tilted, and blood is yet to be seen. where am i? i keep walking, and as i am, there seems to be no end.
i was sick of it, i felt too claustrophobic. taking one of the picture frames, i hit the wall as hard as i can and to my surprise, the wall now has a big hole. paper-thin it must be.
looking inside of the hole, i see a man. he isn't the only one in the room. in front of him, i see a woman. her hands, tied behind a chair. her mouth, taped. her hair is a mess and her cheeks are tear-stained. her screaming makes my ears bleed, yet i can do nothing, but watch. before i knew it, the man slapped his hand across the woman's face. her screams got louder -
my eyes instantly shoot open. my hands start sweating, and sweat trickles down my face. my body immediately starts to heat up, and i feel myself suffocating. my body jerks up and i grab the glass of water next to my bed. i get up, and start pacing back and forth in my room. what's wrong with me? why do i feel so close to that picture in my head? it's just another nightmare, i tell myself. but even i knew that there was something more to it.
i leave the house, and from the color of the sky, i can see it may be early in the day - maybe 5 or 6 in the morning. from the view of it, it looks like everyone is still asleep. i keep walking farther away from my house until i reach a stream.
without a second thought, i jump.
YOU ARE READING
blank canvas
Novellershe was his words. he was her drawings. ---- a story in which the boy writes, and the girl paints, but it's much more complicated than that; a blank canvas doesn't just make itself {lowercase intended}
