Lost it all

''He's not evil.
I don't think...''


1. Existance

They told me the only thing to fear was fear itself. So why do I fear so many other things? I fear the ocean. The power of the waves that could crush me in an instant. I fear death, I fear the fact I have no idea what lies ahead. I fear life. They never told me why these fears are irrational, just that they are. They never told me why I shouldn't be afraid of things that seemed oh so obvious to fear. Never once has it been explained. I wish it would be.

Sometimes I question the possibilty that even they don't have a clue. It seems the most logical explaination. Maybe if I had been told I wouldn't question it so much. It seems like an inevitable question. Like it is the obvious decision to question everything until the day you die. Either way it seems like it to me.

I question life, I question the universe and all it's glory. I question my parents death, I question a life I could of led. I question the future, the past. The present though only existent for a mere moment is still questioned. Sometimes I even wonder what nothing is. It is never ending. My over analaysis of everything takes over my life. And the obvious question. Why do I exist?

I stand up from my bed, yawning. I reach out, looking for something to hold, to know what reality feels like. To know that I am infact still alive. I walk across the small room to the old, battered wardrobe. I catch a glimpse of my own reflection in the mirror attached firmly to my wall. My hair stands out like a flame in the dark room, framing my face with its red strands, standing out from the auburn. My eyes their usual basic brown colour, I see me jaw, still bruised from the previous night. My lip is split and throbbing from pain, but I ignore it as I reflect on the events that lead up to the dark purple brusing on my face.

I hear a loud, rumbling voice from the base of the stairs. ''Vanessa?'' Henry shouts,his deep voice filled with anger. I know he's still angry at me for arguing with him last night. I don't know whether to say sorry or leave him to his anger. Apologising always seems to make things worse. ''Vanessa!'' He demands again.

''Yes?'' I call down trying not to have any tone of emotion, knowing it could trigger his anger if he thinks I'm being sarcastic at all.

''Come down here would you?'' His tone as softened. The feeling of falling ceases as I am caught in a safety net. I cross the room towards the broken and splintering door. I open it with care, making sure not to get caught on the sharp wood. I tiptoe across the creaking floorboards, as a appear in plain sight of Henry who is sat at the base of the stairs staring up to me. ''What is that on your lip?'' He says, oblivious that he is the cause.

''Just from yesterday.'' I say vaugely, making sure to avoid the inevitable discussion about last nights events.

''Oh, okay.'' He says pausing. ''You going out tonight?''

''What do you mean?'' I ask, keeping my voice monotone, robotic, as though reading from a script.

He holds up my phone, the one I thought was in my pocket. ''You made plans?'' He says angrily. ''What were you planning to do?''

''Didn't you read that too?'' I retort, the second I speak I regret my words. I see his head processing, ticking away. He stands up. And walks to the window looking out of it before drawing the blinds. He faces he opposite way as I realize what is coming. My turn to stand. I force my body up, wobbling on my feet, darting into the bedroom. I dress rapidly and grab my bag, adding my concealer stick into the mix of odd things inside the rucksack. I leave the bedroom, going back into the living room where Henry stands still next to the closed blinds. I reach for my phone which is on the table. He turns at a rate of knots, grabbing my wrist and slowly tightening his grasp. The area surrounding his hand slowly turning white on my ivory skin.

''Where. Are. You. Going?'' He shouts in my face.

''To Amelia's. Only to Amelia's!'' I say quietly.

''Will there be males there?'' He is still shouting.

I hesitate for a moment ''No.'' I practically whisper.

''You. Are. Lying.'' He hisses in my face. He throws me to the other side of the room. I hit the wall, my nose releases a sudden flow of scarlet as the cartilage hits. A salt filled tear, slides down my face, warming its path. I wipe it away furiously. ''Get. Out.''

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