mama said

// tw: implied abuse, implied sexual assault, alcohol mentions, dissociation, suicide //

...

mama said that eyes are like windows to the soul.

as she looked into the weary face of her mother, she believed it. she couldn't see the tiredness in her eyes, nor the tortured soul that lay behind it. there was no pain, no sadness, no longing for life as she knew it to come to a close. there was just her mother, whispering softly into her ear as she whimpered and trembled in fear.

father was home. mother was quiet when father was home.

she learned to be quiet too.

she stared into the empty pools of caramel and honey, a swirling storm of unshed tears. she didn't know why her mother didn't stare back. her mother couldn't bear to look any longer. she didn't want to see the glistening emerald, glossy and pained with childish innocence.

naive, that's what she was.

even though she knew they were different, the child in front of her reminded her of ongoing horrors; screaming at midnight, begging him to stop, wishing she could shrivel up and fall asleep, even if it meant she would never wake up.

...

mama said that eyes were windows to the soul, but as she looked in the mirror she saw nothing.

none of the happiness gleamed in her gaze, nor did any tears threaten to spill.

it was a void of empty emotion, everything and nothing at the same time filling her mind until it went blank.

she went blank.

her face went blank.

she may have looked calm, but that was in no way the truth. someone might have noticed if they took a look at her trembling hands. the way her breath left her mouth in ragged gasps, her heartbeat stuttering and legs trembling as she struggled to hold herself up.

nobody bothered, though, so what was the point?

she was glad her eyes weren't brown. they weren't a dusty cinnamon, or a creamy caramel colour. they didn't turn to honey in the sunlight, and they certainly didn't look back at her with the weight of a thousand words behind them. she wasn't her mother.

she could never be as strong as her.

instead, they were green. jade? emerald? she gave up on trying to find them a long time ago. all she could see was her father. the way he towered over her with his shadow looming and his breath suffocating. the way his forest-green eyes only held malice.

she was scared that one day, she would find that in herself.

not registering the movements, her hands moved to grab a cup. a bottle.

cool liquid splashed from the cup, held loosely at her chest. water. the bottle's orange hue was too bright, but the shaking of her hands and the following rattle told her all she needed to know. pills. why were there pills?

she didn't know what was happening, but she felt herself unscrew the lid. medication fell into her palm, one, two, four, seven. could she even count anymore? there were too many.

too many didn't feel like enough.

her head tilted and her mind lurched as a clasped hand covered her mouth. small, bitter pellets fell from the palm, now back to dangling at her side. her other hand brought the water up, and she locked onto a strange pair of dull green eyes in the mirror as she sipped.

then she swallowed.

she was drowsy, that's for sure. how much sleep was she getting? definitely not enough. at least she probably looked better than the girl in the mirror, with her skin so pale that she already looked dead, face shadowed and gaunt and infinitely haunted. the girls eyes were rimmed with red, like she had been crying. in fact, there were tears rolling slowly down the girls face right then.

she felt a salty taste on her lips.

her mind was shutting down, telling her time for sleep, but her eye wouldn't close. the room was spinning, but she was standing right there. or was she? the ground didn't seem so solid anymore.

there was an image flashing into her sight, swirling caramel and a soft, raspy voice. the voice called a name, one she remembered for some reason, but when she tried to replicate it felt bitter and foreign on her tongue.

her tongue.

her?

who was she?

the world went black.

// end. //