Blood on her Hands (girlxgirl) [Wattys2018]

II1II

Song for the chapter: Photograph - by Nickelback

Making a big change in life is scary, but do you know what's scarier? Regret.

Fear is temporary, regret is forever...

It happened two years ago, yet it feels like it was just yesterday. I hear those ear piercing screams and that sadistic laugh. That very laugh that had me refrained from my sleep for the past two years, sleep was like a luxury that I was longing to get. Every time I shut my eyes, I see those menacing, blood-curdling visions. If you knew what had been troubling me for the past years, you'd understand. You'd understand why I'm in a vast amount of pain right now and not all pain is afflicted physically. You can be hurt psychologically, those of which haunt you everlastingly, trying to end you. You may think you can fight it off, but no, this isn't a game that you can win. You can never win. In fact, I'm not entirely sure why I'm still here. I should've been perished along with my family a while ago, it's not like I have anything to live for anymore. How do you live with someone else's blood on your pale, lifeless hands?

It's been a while since I've properly cleaned myself up, I probably looked a mess but, who cares? There's no one left to. I got up from the uncomfortable crouched position I was in and stumbled my way over to the shattered mirror on the ground, leaning onto the old, stained walls to help me reach my destination as I was drastically dizzy, due to the lack of rest I take in.

Cautiously, I bent down, picking up a segment of the shattered mirror, gazing helplessly at the colourless girl staring back at me. Her face was as pale as a corpse; she had huge bags under her eyes which made her once bright, emerald pupils look dark and dull like the mould upon a skull. Her extended, raven hair was cascading down her slim body, ending at the small of her back. She sported a simple, tattered shirt which was stained with blotches of a thick, dark red liquid and a pair of dusty, enduring jeans that had thread hanging loose. Her bony feet were bare while her nails had dirt trapped in between them. This girl seemed rather unfamiliar and distant to me. I let the fragment fall defencelessly out of my shaking hands and onto the concrete ground, making it SMASH into smithereens.

Carelessly, strolling past the pieces, I arrived at the small, inadequate table. There laid a lone photograph of the most cheery, sarcastic girl in the world, her huge grin could light up anyone's day and her eyes were large, bright and full of mirth. She looked like she was at peace with herself. She looked as innocent as a new born, like no-one was ever going to hurt her.

She was me...