badass~e.d

~1~

REBECCA P.O.V

I was sweating. Sweating bad. I was in the back seat of my parents' car, going to go get my unicorn playhouse, when a truck collided with us, and sent us rolling down a cliff. My parents were freezing, blood oozing out of their heads, unconscious. The car was beginning to light on fire, and the heat was getting to me as I was struggling to get rid of my seatbelt. A hand touched me. That hand led to my poor mother. Broken arm. Busted lip. Slit across her forehead. Pale skin. Bloody.
"You could've saved us, Rebecca," she whispered in a barely audible whisper.

Another hand touched me.

That hand led to my father.

Broken jaw. Twisted leg. Slit across cheek. Glass in his eye. Pale skin. Bloody.

"Now you will come with us," my precious father mumbled.

They both reached out from their seats as the car began to erupt in flames. They opened their mouths wide and engulfed my head.

"Ahh!" I screamed, but it was too late.

I was one of them now.

-

I woke up in a sweaty heap. I was breathing heavily, and tears were running down my face. I looked around. My usual room. Black and white theme. White carpet covering the hardwood floor, black curtains covering my black-panel-ed window, black desk with white decorations, not like I use it anyways, and the most important object if the whole room, a white bed with dots of black all over it.

I looked at my phone. 3AM. Same as always.

I slammed my head back on my pillow, feeling my breathing start to calm down. My reoccurring nightmare always gets to me. I think it's my fault my parents died. If I hadn't begged for that stupid toy, they would be with me now. Right now. My mother would bust in the door to my screams and comfort me, saying it's okay, that it's just a dream. My dad would read me a bedtime story like a little kid. I would get good grades, a good reputation, but no. The light in my life had to be snatched away from me in the darkest time.

More tears start to steam down my face as I think about my parents, who both died in the same crash trying to make me happy. If my stupid soul hadn't been born in this disgusting body, they wouldn't be dead.

I grabbed their picture from my nightstand and just gazed at their faces. I had ripped out my own face a few weeks ago, and I liked it better that way; it won't remind me of how tyrannical I am.

Their faces looked so happy, so alive. They were smiling a great big smile at the camera, looking like they had no problems at all. My mum was beautiful: long, blonde hair; blue eyes; clear skin with a few wrinkles here and there and tan skin. My dad really matched her: short, dark brown hair, slicked back; hazel eyes, and an amazing structure of muscles all over his body.

I stroked the tip of my index finger along their faces, feeling my tears calm down just by touching them. I imagined them comforting me, saying it isn't my fault, but I knew better. It was my fault, and that is that.

I looked back at my phone.

4AM.

Wow, new high score. An hour of crying.

I slammed my head back into my pillow, trying to get comfortable again. I had 2 hours left before I had to wake up for school.

I end up falling asleep in under a minute; I did cry a lot, after all.

-

I lift my head off of my pillow, feeling my eyelids threatening to close, and debated whether to smash my alarm with my fist or my elbow.

I decided I had no spare clocks at the moment, and just decided to calmly press, "stop".

I twisted my body so that my back was perpendicular to the mattress, and my feet are hanging over the bed and touching the floor.

I rubbed my eyes, and just decided to get up quickly and get this over and done with.

I quickly put all my weight on my 2 tiny feet, and made my way to my palatial-furnished bathroom. Marble-floored, maroon walls with little strokes of gold here and there, and a huge mirror with lights outlining it.

I looked in the mirror and stared at the sad, scarred girl that lay ahead of me. Her eyes were puffy, there were white tear marks all over her cheeks, and her dirty blonde hair was all over the place.

I sighed, got changed, and got in the shower.

I took a warm, quick shower, hoping it would warm up my cold heart.

I got out of the shower and done my makeup. But before that, I put a bag of frozen vegetables with a cloth covering it under my eyes; people can't know I've been crying.

Once my puffy eyes had cooled down, I applied my foundation, concealer, eyebrows, bronzer, and mascara.

I straightened my hair and picked my outfit: a white, long-sleeve crop top and some high waist black shorts with black boots.

VISUAL

I walked down the stairs in complete silence; if I open my mouth, I will burst into tears.

I stuffed my mouth with leftover dinner and brushed my teeth, then grabbed my keys, put my fake badass mask on and walked out the door.

-

What do you think? Can this improve? Talk to me!