They said she'd be okay.
That she was healed of this disease that was once upon a time deemed incurable.
She didn't want to be fucking cured.
she loved it, thrived from it, lived off it.
why would she want it gone now?
Her fingers danced over the piano that sat in an empty room somewhere in the north wing of her parents estate. Her head was pressed in the center of the keys just before she brought it down in a harsh manner. A sound similar to a bang and screech echoed throughout the room; causing her to smile before she repeated the action several more times. Sitting upright and placing a hand to her head as the room swam, a bubble of laughter left her swollen and busted lips. She'd done this so often, but it wasn't giving her the fix she wanted. Sure, if she hit at the right angle she'd cause skin to break on her forehead and be bathed in the red wine she once knew so well.
But it was different.
it didn't feel right!
The feeling was foreign!
This was so fucking impossible that she was shaking at the thought. She'd done it so many times, there was no way she'd forgotten the rush she always got. In a rage of anger she slammed her fists down on the keys, shouting and cursing.
Sure, the wine was pouring ; but it was not the right amount!
It wasn't from the right spot!
Jerking her arms out of the sleeves of her sweater, and yanking it from her head she hugged herself. The feeling of familiarity washing over her once again. Her left had slid over her right arm, before the right hand repeated the same action on the left arm. Tears of relief cascaded down her face, purple eyes swelling with joy.
they were still among the living!
they didn't leave her!
The familiar sting of salt on opens wounds had her laughing and jumping with joy; before she abruptly stopped. Her purple eyes hardening as she released an enraged screech. Her hands threaded themselves through her black locks as she fell to the floor. The withdrawal from her wine was living hell.
She needed to fix this.
She needed her fix.
Rushing toward the doors had kept her trapped in the room, she yanked and pulled at the large handles. Kicked, smacked, and screamed for someone to open the doors before she pushed the piano into them. The damn thing wouldn't break the doors down. they wouldn't let her get her fix, they wanted her wallow in this pool of pity and hopelessness. Her fingers danced over the jagged cuts and lines that made up those things called arms.
She was covered in them, her little wine bottles.
She just had to get them open.
It didn't matter how.
She just had to.
Her eyes scanned the bare and white room. There was absolutely nothing to use, and no way out. The balcony doors were locked as were the windows. She wouldn't be able to get to anything. And as soon as this though crossed her mind; she found herself running toward the balcony doors. Her fists connecting with the glass several times before it finally shattered, showering her in the bottle openers. Grabbing a particularly jagged piece, she slowly pushed it into the inner wrist of her left hand. Smiling as the skin broke while she dragged it further up her arm. The wine pooling and spilling over the barriers that held it in, a small pool forming on the white skirt she wore. A smile stretched across her face as she repeated the action on all parts of her arm before switching to the other. She danced and spun about the room, her wine spilling onto the cream walls and floor.
Painting the room in her beautiful wine.
Her reason for living were once again coating her body.
she'd purge this filthy room of its ill-contempt.
It took nothing more than several more spins, and sliding across the walls and floors before she felt a familiar chill take was slowing down as she pulled the piano back into the center of the room, glad that the wheels helped it to move before she climbed on top of it. A content sigh left her lips as her purple eyes closed. The withdrawal taking over just as the darkness did. Dragging a hand through her short black locks, she gave into the feeling of familiarity, welcoming it with open arms.