BEFORE SHE fell
Everything hurts.
But strangely, destroying herself from the inside out; doesn't.
She picks it up carefully, as if it were the most precious thing on earth. It glistens under the light; so delicate, one move would ruin it. Fingering it, she inhales, the aroma of burnt paper and empty bottles filling her body; pushing her harder. She flips it open as she exhales, and her being is magically relaxed. Carefully, the girl draws a picture on her wrist.
One scar is worth a thousand words.
.
RedRedRedRed, that's all it's been. Her hair, red. Her lips, red. Her favorite cupcakes, red. And her wrists? Red. Maybe, she thought, shoving her once beautiful hair into a messy ponytail; it was time for a change.
Buying the dye was the easy part. The hard part of all of that, in fact, was not the dying process, but the change. Her life was no longer a mess of redredredred, but blackblackblackred.
Her wrists, she couldn't change. They were stained red. And stains, Cat had learned from her mother whilst she was doing laundry, hardly ever come out.
..
106. The number she saw every morning when she woke up, and every night when she excited her bathroom and entered her bedroom.
106. 106. 106. The number haunted her. 106. 106. 106.
It never increased, nor did it decrease. It was almost as if the universe was telling her stop.
Doesn't it know she can't?
…
Sometimes she wished she could somehow re-wind time. Turn back the clock, to before this all began. Before she fell.
Maybe, if it were possible, she could yell to her old self. Tell her to stop, warn her about the hole she was about to set foot in.
But, it doesn't look deep.
It only gets deeper. And deeper and deeper and deeper. It sucks you in so fast, that you don't even realize you're at the bottom until your whole body thuds and you land, unable to catch yourself.
It's a void you'll never be able to fill.
Once you're all the way down, there is no way up.
….
She didn't know what she wanted to hear. It doesn't matter, words don't make a difference. Words can't capture the hurt inflicted, the pain felt, and the life lost.
Words are merely letters, which are merely symbols. How could something such as symbols even begin to describe her? What she felt?
Just tell me what's wrong, I can help.
I care about you.
Please don't do that, please?
I want to do something. I can do something.
You can get through this, you're strong.
Apparently, not strong enough.
A/N: This is more of a therapeutic kind of thing. It's based off of the roleplay my friends and I do on Twitter. I know it's written weirdly, it is supposed to be confusing. You may not understand it, but that is okay. This was written late at night when my character needed to vent, but no one was online, so this happened. It is short but it's supposed to be. Review or don't. For this fic, it doesn't really matter. This one isn't one that I've put a lot of thought into. For this one-shot, I just typed. No plot in mind.
Anyway, have a nice day. :]
-Victoriousjadefan