Shattered

A shatterred mirror. Each piece smashed, scattered around. Different perspectives of the world, broken for different reasons and in their own way. Slowly and carefully, we must pick up the pieces, attempt to piece the mirror back together.
*contains swearing and adult topics*

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6. Natasha

Wisps of smoke fly out of her mouth as she blows deeply out, removing the rolled paper from her mouth briefly. Curling and transforming, white in the blackness; they fly up into the sky, slowly fading into the midnight sky. With a sigh she stubs the burning end out on the patio, a quiet hiss sounding. The haze has fallen over her again, memories quashed by the sweet-smelling smoke. Not entirely legal, but the only method of relief. But already it is fading, the euphoria ebbing from her system as quickly as it had appeared. 

"No," she murmurs, voice racked with pain. "Again." She brings a hand to her forehead, an intense pain beginning there. Her fist moves back before thumping her head, desperate to bring back the dam stopping the past breaking through.

As they flood into her mind, she lets out a shriek. "No!" But there's nothing she can do.

She lay on her bed, eyes beginning to drift shut as sleep reached out to her, ready to embrace her into its warm chest. The door slowly opened and she looked up, light from the landing outside flooding into her room. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway. Blearily, she rubbed her eyes, making out the figure of her dad. "What is it?

The floor creaks as he walked over, sitting next to her on the bed as she sat up. "C'mere," he murmured, holding out his arms. Smiling belligerently, she lifted the duvet up and pulled him in next to her, letting him wrap her up in his warm arms. His breath stank of liquor. "My little girl," he said, squeezing her waist.

Then squeezing a bit higher.

It was an accident, a mistake, all it was. Cheeks reddening, she moved away. "I need to get to sleep, it's late and I've got an exam tomorrow," she muttered, gently pushing him away.

"My little girl," he slurred, shuffling closer and wrapping his arms around her. "I love you." He squeezed again, in the same place.

Her heart was beginning to race, beating like a marathon runner's, breathing coming quickly. "Dad, come on."

"Go away."

"Dad, please go to bed."

"Please."

They've hit her, replaying a million times. Her own personal hell.

"No!" Her voice is feral as she reaches into her pocket, fingers trembling as she pulls out the crumpled packet. Frantically she rolls up the paper and tips some of the powder into it, rolling it quickly up. She needs the relief, the amnesia it brings to her. 

A door opens next to her, a figure slipping out of the gate at the end of the garden. Ignoring him, she concentrates on flicking the lighter on. Eventually a small flame appears, lighting up the darkness around it. 

The pale duvet shook in time with her tremors, curled in a foetal position on top of it. He had eventually left, staggering out the door and into his empty bed, muttering apologies. 

Even though the damage had already been done.

"Unclean, unclean," she whispered, rocking back and forth. "Dirty."

Light was already beginning to shine through the closed curtains and she knew that she'd have to go to school, be with other people. Be near them, feel their skin on hers, their hot breath near her, crowding her head and her body. Too close. She gagged at the thought, reaching up to her head, softly banging it against the radiator. 

Hands clamped in her hair as she banged harder, the dull metal clanging slightly. She pushed her head into it, throwing all her weight behind it. Something seemed to rip and she brought her hand down in front of her, staring at the clump of hair clutched in it. Tangled strands intertwined, a small amount of blood matted within it.

Reaching up again, she grabbed another handful of hair and yanked it out, moaning with the relief.

She brings the glowing light over to the end of the rolled paper, eyes fixed upon it. The flame catches, flickering at the end. Glowing like hot coals in the blackness, her lungs fill up with smoke as she takes a deep breath in, the stagnant paper against her soft lips.

The waiting takes time, but she keeps going in the gap, waiting and waiting.

Then the relief hits. Dizzying and euphoric, clouding her minds and thoughts, blocking it all out. All the memories, all the thoughts, all the pain. Gone in the blink of an eye. A giggle tears through her lips as the smoke begins to spread around, turning turquoise in the darkness.

Everything is vivid, heightened by the drugs. Trees turning bright green, wind bringing sparkles of light with it, each click of an insect a deafening roar.

Like living on a cloud, you don't have to worry about a thing. 

Goosebumps flared up her arm as she walked out onto the corridor, beginning to tremble as she neared their bedroom door. His. She didn't know why she was going there, going back to him. The thought of what had happened was sharp and raw, a jagged knife in her head. But she was drawn there, irrevocably. For some reason, she had to see what was inside.

Her hand closed around the brass doorknob, gently pushing the door open. Dark strands of hair hung down beside the door as she peered around it, looking inside the bedroom. And the sight that greeted her brought a shriek that rang throughout the entire house.

Swinging slowly back and forth, a leather belt was strung around the lampshade. Below that his neck was threaded through the loop in the belt, head dangling loosely, body hanging below that, feet just brushing the bed.

She kept screaming, until they dragged her away.

Why are the memories still clear in her mind? She only does this to forget them, to forget them all.

She can't run away from the world forever.

But she can sure as hell try.

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