Children of the Mirror
...3rd Part: Krad...
I couldn't get the taste of blood out of my mouth. I couldn't get the feel of him off of my skin.
I had to admit, that had been original. What was Dark's deal, anyway? An ache in the pit of my stomach feared the worst, which I already had too much of. But another, smaller part of me simply remained curious.
I stood up and brushed some grass away from my clothes, hitting my head on a tree branch but ignoring it as I picked up one of its leaves to examine. But I tired quickly of that and realized, as I did every day, that going back to the house in which I resided was inevitable and inescapable.
. . .
"Krad, you're home!" the woman who others would call my mother rasped, coming up to me and planting a kiss harshly against my lips.
"Hello," I said in an almost robotic tone.
"I'm going out tonight," she announced, taking another swig of whatever it was that was in the bottle she held as she tripped over her feet into the kitchen.
"Do you not always?" I asked demurely. My voice was horridly dry, and now did I not only have the taste of Dark's blood in my mouth, there was alcohol. Alcohol and whatever else this woman's lips tasted like. I didn't have the stomach to guess. I almost wanted the violet-eyed rebel to kiss me again, if only it would take this disgusting feeling away.
The frazzle-haired whore whose tank top was screaming 'wardrobe malfunction' came back over to me and slapped me across the face, so hard that I nearly lost my footing. "None of your business," she crowed, and shoved her alcohol at me.
I took it from her and watched her leave. It brought me some minor level of relief to see her going. There was that spark of hope still somewhere inside of me that someday she would not be coming back. Maybe someone would kill her. I found myself longing for that day.
I dared to leave the house for a while, walking down the street, letting my mind go blank for a while. It was my escape for a small while. I was still carrying that glass bottle with me. It swung in my hand at my side until I found a good candidate of a wall to smash it against. I hurled it at a brick building, letting an angry growl out of my throat as it sped through the air and crashed into a bunch of tiny shards.
My sanity might become that bottle, I thought, if I had to endure any more of this putrid life I had.
Eventually... Eventually I would get out of here. Somehow or other, I'd find a way out. And with that remaining spark of possibility, I headed back to that house I was confined to.