Being Shot

P h o t o #46 - Ebony Locks

"Well, we're here anyways." I heard Elliot mumbled, his shoulders tense as his hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned a stark white.

Gulping as I registered his clipped tone, I muttered a quick sentence of gratitude as I bowed out of the car. The boots I had borrowed from Kayla, just half a size too big, flopped around my feet as I dodged large piles of melted snow lining my cracked driveway.

The large sleeves covering my arms hindered my movement slightly as I turned the silver doorknob to my front door, making my grip hesitant for only a moment. Crisp air fanned my exposed nape, making the small hairs on the back of my neck rise. I ran into the house, the heat coming through the vents calling for me.

I kicked off my shoes and looked around. I guessed that my grandmother was upstairs since there was no sign of life on the main level of my home and bolted up the carpeted staircase.

Since my room was the first door on the right, I decided I shouldn't waste time and strolled in towards my closet. Going straight to the end of the small array of clothes hanging on mismatched hangers that made up my humble wardrobe, I carefully pulled my wine colored dress off of its hanger, keeping the fine layer of plastic over it in order to protect it from Mother Nature beyond the walls of the house.

I turned back around, gazing at my messy room. Even over the many months I have gradually been changing my room has failed to transition with me.

My eyes shifted over to my bed, my curtains drawn, my laptop still sitting on my nightstand on its changer where I had left it. It had been awhile since I checked my blog, and only a slight feeling of guilt coursed through me before I remembered that I had told my followers of my hiatus not too long ago. I knew that getting away from that page, even if it was a small oasis for me for many years, I was convinced that I had to distance myself from the tidbits of my past that still bound me. After all, it was never mine to begin with.

Even if it was a harmless webpage, I felt that it was for the best for now.

My eyes then scanned over my full-body mirror on the back of my door. They traced over the ebony locks that fell now below my breasts. A sigh escaped my lips, 'Distance myself from the past that binds me.'

My muscles tensed at the thought of really doing such a thing. Tensed with excitement. Excitement that I was finally walking down the path to freedom.

The best part was that I didn't have to walk this winding path alone.

Although we've hit somewhat of a rough patch at the moment, I was determined to have it resolved by the end of the night, there was no question about it. This was just a downside in order to contrast with the many upsides we've had lately, and it was something I could definitely manage.

My dark eyes blazed with determination as I stared down at the grubby carpeting of my room, proud that I was able to feel so intensely for others again. It wasn't a new thing for me to understand the ways I have come, but it didn't stop me from experiencing these emotions over and over again.

The floorboards squeaked under my weight as I made my way to my bedroom door. Shutting it behind me quietly, I drew in a breath, ready to call out for my grandmother.

The painful sounds of coughing and hacking came from her bedroom down the hall, and suddenly a weight was dropped onto my chest.

My feet took me in a frenzied rush across the house, not even knocking as I threw open my grandmother's bedroom door.

She sat hunched over at the corner of her bed, one of her many bottles of medication toppled over and spilled on the beige carpeting under her slippered feet. Her eyes hid behind forced closed eyelids, her thin glasses in the lap of her lavender nightgown.