Blaze Davis is the girl in the shadows. The one no one notices but if given a chance, could light up your world with a personality as unique as the scars adorning her body like damaged armour. She has secrets no one knows and hidden beneath that mas...
"The tornados of pain swirling in his eyes were captivating, pulling me in but pushing me away only to be drifted into the wind"
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❃ B l a z e ❃
Saturday evening rolled by relatively quickly. I had spent the morning and last night packing behind my locked door, and avoiding human contact.
A few days ago Andrea had informed me that she was on-board with my moving, and she had talked to Aunt Mary about me going back there. I could tell from her face that she didn't like it one bit, but it was the best decision right now.
A bunch of my stuff, which wasn't a lot, was packed in boxes that were stacked against one wall of the room. I knew I still had a lot of things yet to pack, including going through the box stowed away, deep inside my closet.
It had all of mine and Kiara's things, amongst my parents belongings and I was stalling everyday because I didn't know if I had it in me to sift through all their stuff.
It was like a time capsule, but it didn't feel as if the wounds had still healed from their deaths for me to rehash them. It was probably dramatic of me, however I wasn't even close to that point where I would be able to look back on those times without breaking down.
I refocused my attention my current plans, avoiding that topic as usual. We were going bowling in two hours and I still had to shower and get ready. Dragging myself out of bed, I slipped into the shower and took my time scrubbing myself clean.
By the time I got out, it had been well over forty minutes and I spent another fifteen deciding on what to wear. For some odd reason, I felt good about myself today and decided on putting more effort into my outfit.
After much contemplation, I decided on a white crop top and some high waisted blue mom jeans. But once I put it on, my confidence wavered.
There weren't any sleeves and all the marks and bumps on my forearms were clearly visible. A litter of scars, some short and some long, were marred across my arms in a messy weave. Most of them were faint, but some stood out against my pale skin, drawing attention to the deformities.
I ran my fingers over the varying cuts, flinching as I felt a phantom pain shoot through me as I touched each one, remembering the way I had found solace in harming myself. They were hideous.
Salty tears pricked the corner of my eyes, and a heavy feeling settled down in my chest. I just wanted to feel better, but there was always something to drag me down. I clamped my eyes shut, feeling a few tears release and track down my cheek as I grappled my fingers in my hair.
I took a few deep breaths, this was no reason to cry over. Once again, I scanned my reflection avoiding the way my forearms burnt with an invisible ache. I took another deep breath, and calmed myself.
