𝐌𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒 ❪ 𝘣𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘦 ❫

Twenty-seven

I haul myself up from the floor, watching the objects that I dropped earlier disappear into a drawer, as I walk over towards my mirror. I sit down on a chair, looking at the purple-haired girl in the mirror, with mascara smeared all over her face, and her frail, weak body. 

I sit there for what could be a minute or even an hour, examining every imperfection.

Every blemish. 

Every flaw. 

Every scar, bruise, fault, cut, gash. It doesn't matter how long I try to find one good thing.

Just one thing I like about myself. 

I always find nothing. 

Describing myself is always one of the hardest things. There are too many words I could use to sum up who I am. I always wonder if other people view me differently to how I do. Do people see beyond my looks? Can they see the things hidden within? Do they even notice me? Do they even pay attention? Or am I just another girl, another girl who means nothing to anyone. I'm just a nobody in a crowd of people. It seems everyone else has their place, their purpose. Everyone has something to do in their life to help others. Yet, everything I do causes the worst to happen. Even when I try to help, it seems as if I make things even more difficult. I bring out the worst in people. No wonder people don't acknowledge me. They don't want to be involved with me. 

I'll only ever be a freak to them. 

A hideous monster. 

A waste of space. 

Or maybe... maybe I just need to change. 

Maybe a change will make them notice that I am more than what they see. I am more than what they say I am, what they think I am, what they believe I am. I am a human being. Just like everyone else.

Or maybe... maybe they don't even matter. I don't need to care what they think. I can do what I want. I can be who I want. They can think what they want to, but I'm going to change for myself. Not them. 

It doesn't have to be a huge change. 

Just a small one. A change to make me slightly different. Something to make me feel better.

I summon a pair of scissors from my drawer, ordering them to land on the surface of my desk, in front of my mirror,  whilst I wipe my face to get rid of the grime on my pale skin. 

My hair has been with me throughout my whole life, short when I was younger, but when I joined the team I decided to let it grow. Using two fingers, I clasp the scrunchie, letting my hair out from the messy bun. I throw the rest of the hairbands to the floor, brushing out my hair until it settles just below my ribs. 

I grab the scissors with one of my hands, raising them up towards my neck, whilst with the other, I bunch my hair together, bringing the scissors towards my purple locks, the shining metal blades just touching the first strand. 

It is time to forget the past, and move on towards the future, and to cut the one thing that has been with me my whole life, the one thing that is a reminder of who I was, who I used to be. 

I bring the blades together and I cut a small section of my hair off. I watch as a few locks fall to the floor. Looking back up to the mirror, I smile at the beginning of my new change. It takes many moments, but I eventually manage to hack away at my purple hair, slashing every strand off leaving my hair just below my collarbone. 

I gaze back at my reflection, seeing the radiant smile that has disappeared for so long, the golden sparkle in my eyes standing out from the deep amethyst irises, and I sit on my bed, stroking my freshly cut hair when I remember the number Noah gave me. 

I summon my phone and the note from inside one of the drawers beside my wardrobe and turn on my phone. 

As soon as the screen lights up, I place my fingertip on the home button and press contacts. I add a new contact: Noah, and I write his number into the empty white box.

After successfully adding his number, I text a short message confirming it's me. At first, I text 'Raven', but fortunately, I delete my name before I hit send, replacing it with 'Abbie' (the name I used to introduce myself to him).

Hey Noah, it's Abbie, the girl you met at the bar last night. How are you?

A few minutes later, I get a response. 

Oh hey! I'm doing good, what about you?

I wait a few minutes before replying, not wanting to seem too eager.

I've never been better. Thank you for a great time last night, I haven't had a chat like that in a while. 

He texts back almost instantly.

About last night... I had an amazing time and I'm hoping you'd like to meet up again? Like in a week or something?

I grin to myself, already typing my next reply. 

Next Saturday? Same place?

Whilst waiting for his response, I summon an empty cup sitting on my bedside table, standing up, walking towards the door.

Great! I'll see you at 11 pm. I've got to go get some food, but I'll see ya then!

I open my door, walking down to the kitchen, the feeling of hope returning that there is something for me, that there is hope for me to get better. 

A long-ish chapter here. Hope you liked it. Thank you for all the reads, votes and comments so far! What's your opinion on Noah?