RWBY One-Shots

Alone

   It was night.

The dim, filtered moonlight arced through the large window into her room. It chased over her bed, her walls, her dresser, her closet. It traced her face, each eyelash, each curve of her lips, the light scar positioned across her eye. It traced her tears, each diamond water drop slowly rolling down from her cheeks. It traced every, single, one of her imperfections. The light could see all, even the slightest flaws could not hide from it. It gave the needed sight, to see the soulless, fractured aura. It outlined the heavy sadness, resting on her shoulders, and the weight of a burden, looming over her like a shadow. It glanced at the tightness of her personality, the uncontrollable frustration and anger.

And it also noticed how her heart was empty, hollow, as if instead, it was replaced by a cold, hard, stone.

She stood in the centre of that room. Poised, royal, elegant.

But the moon betrayed her.

She lifted a hand. Slowly. Gingerly.

She stroked a finger down the pale skin, the silvery hair, the blood-red collar, and the ice-blue eyes staring back at her, emotionless. She touched the dainty nose, the translucent ribbon on the white battle skirt, the buttons on her sky blue cardigan. She paused for a moment above the pale scar across her eye before moving onto fingering the necklace lying on her collarbone.

But she also lingered over the places where she noticed how her imperfections laughed at her. It was details like how her eyes were blood shot, how her lips were pulled into a hard line, how her hair was slightly tangled, and how there were crinkles all over her clothes.

She let out a shivery, choked, breath.

This is me. She thought silently. This is me, and I want to change her.

But she only stayed the same, motionless, unmoved, a mere reflection in a mirror.

More tears began forming at her eyes.

Her fingertips felt cold at the tips from touching the glass, and she snatched them back, like as if they were burnt, choking back a sob.

"Why do I have to be like this?" She asked, her voice coming out crackled and loud against the caving walls.

But her only reply was silence, and the faint sound of wind roaming through the branches of an oak tree outside, swaying nearby the window.

"Why do people hate me? Why do they despise me so much?" She said, her voice starting to raise, looking to her reflection, only to pull away again when it only reminded her evermore of her flaws.

"Why do I have to be alone?"

She desperately searched for something other than the mirror to focus on, but it was no use. The sheen of reflective glass was something she had spent her entire life focusing on. It was impossible not to stare at anything else other than it.

It was something she confided in, something to do, not just a pretty ornament on her dresser. She would ask it things, share news, talk to it. How she wished, desperately, every single day when she had looked at it, that someday, the reflection would talk back to her. To become real. To become someone instead of something. To become a genuine, life-bound, friend.

But it never happened, and now she knew that such thoughts were foolish, idiotic. Only childish hopes that would never come true.

Her room seemed to be sending her mind into turmoil, reminding her of the many arguments she had had with her father. Each time she stepped into the room, the memories would echo through her head, fresh as new fallen snow. Her room was so wide, so spaced, so empty. And all for what? She didn't need all of this, she didn't want it. Every, single, night, she would never be able to get to sleep. Every, single, night, she would wake up screaming from a nightmare, and no one would ever hear her. No one would ever rush into her room and ask her if she was alright. No one would ever come to comfort her, to get her back to resting.

She would always wake up in the mornings, alone.

"Why?!" She cried, putting more volume into it, yelling at her own reflection, as if that, by itself, would give her an answer.

But ofcourse, it never did.

Water spilled freely down her face, streaking her eyes red and rendering her helpless to try and stop her trembling lips. Her hands started shaking uncontrollably by themselves, and she had to lean over and slam her hands down on the polished wood of her dresser to stop them.

"Why?" She whispered, all the fight draining out of her at once.

Her knuckles eventually turned white out of the force she was gripping the pinewood with. It was like how if she loosened her grasp, or let go altogether, every, single thing around her, her life, her personality, her aura, would all unwound and fall apart with it. Even when her legs started to give out, her hands held on. Even when her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth opened with a soundless wail, she didn't let go. Not even when her tears were drying up did she loosen her grip.

And in the end,

Her body fell limp from exhaustion, and she collapsed onto the carpeted floor, finally unconscious in the nightmares of sleep.

And no one ever found out.

~HL🐞