The Girl Inside The Glass

I was alone until I met her.
My best friend. My only friend.
But she is trapped in the glass. I will save her.

My both sides of the story competiton entry.

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2. Screaming scars

Purple bruises blossomed on my skin. I watched my arms in fascination. It was beautiful - like the spots of a leopard. Not as beautiful as my stripes though.

Not as beautiful as my tigers coat.

I was walking back from school, through row of identical houses, each full of identical people. The quiet was punctured by the usual soundtrack of speeding cars, and ambulance sirens.

Finally I reached my house, a mournful bungalow, choking in ivy. I walked up the crooked path and unlocked the door.

The customary blaring of the television greeted me. In the living room I found my mum, basking in the glow of the screen, still trapped in her drunken coma. Sighing, I left and trudged to my bedroom.

There, under my pillow, it waited.

The knife was eager, trembling excitedly in my grasp. It kissed my arm with metal lips… before revealing the fangs beneath.

A lopsided grin split open on my arm. Tears sprang from my eyes.

I didn’t want the wound to be lonely so I gave it some brothers and sisters.

The mouths screamed themselves into existence.

There had once been a time when I had screamed. But that attracts too much attention – too many physiatrists. Now I am silent. Now I am clever.

My scars scream for me.

The mouths stretched expectantly; like baby birds, calling for their mother for food. My salty tears fell into the red chasms.

The cuts feed off my sorrow.

 

In the blade I see the girl again. Her face is blurred but I can make out the rare smile playing on her lips as our blood runs together.

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