(A/N: Thanks to all who review. Reviews = inspiration, and I love you all to bits. But guess what? Another dark chapter. Haha, sorrrryyyy.)
It
Gazzy
What happens when that cute little bundle of fun grows up? They understand. They remember. They have more than a title. Somehow, though. I didn't – even though I was fifteen now.
I grew out of my – ahem- more embarrassing habits. I got taller, older, more trained. My wings got as large and strong as Fang's. I could throw a throwing knife with deadly accuracy. I gave myself a new name.
Archangel.
In honor of my little sister, my Angel. After the vanished when I was only nine….it broke me. I vowed never to let myself be weak again. It was unbearable to watch someone you love simply slip away. I had to remind myself of that.
I just had to.
The blade offered the only sadistic comfort I allowed myself. Pressing its smooth, thin layer against my wrist, watching the red blossom from my skin and spread in the small wrinkles in my arm. Over time, it dyed my blond hairs a shade of brown.
The Flock still thought of me as little Gazzy, still mocking me with that name. I hated it.
My emotions were coiled tightly, spiraled and twisted inside my body and wriggling, torturing and hot inside me. Feeling the warm blood cool when it reached the surface of my flawless skin soothed me, kept me from unchaining the anger that flamed and licked inside of my limbs. It ached with a prickly heat to whip itself across the innocent faces of the Flock. How could they laugh, or cry, or do anything when they had seen it?
They had seen it.
It.
I-t.
It.
Stared it in its glowing white eyes with round ones of their own. Or maybe that was delusions.
My dreams were silent.
Si…..lent.
Silent.
My blue eyes were continually red-rimmed as I gripped the sink and pushed the blade further and further into my skin.
Not killing me, no. I was so, so alive. They can't kill it.
It.
It.
Poor me. Poor. Me.
No one tickles the human in me. It's gone. So much gone. Left. Leave.
Go.
I curled myself into a ball. Sleep would attack me and grope itself against my feeble mind, cracking the brittle layer sealing in my thoughts. Grotesque.
Their bones. Their hearts. Beating. No body.
None.
Zee-roh.
It had done it.
It.
Arresting the future love that I would have was impossible. Unreachable through the sharp, slick redness. The redness coated the paleness in a waxy, thick layer. My fingers twitch when they reach for the blade now. Anticipation.
An-ti-ci-pay-shun.
My pupils widen.
And I smile, biting my lip.
I can taste the sweetness.
It is me.
It.