Them.
Them and their perfect little smiles
and twisted little words.
Words that crawl throughout your spirit, draining it slowly.
Them and their shimmering blond hair and tiny eyes waist.
I love her.
But I don’t like her.
Every connection she attempts to make is false and condescending.
But the anger she feels when I am pushed on the court is real,
So is her allure.
I realize I’m not drawn to her because of her popularity,
but rather because of the fun I’ve had with her, And the pity I feel for her.
As a person, she contradicts herself
Managing a perfect balance of sincere and insincere.
I am constantly waiting for her to be honest, and am never surprised when I don’t receive it.
Yet here I am,
Always available for her, and always eager to see her.
Why is she always there?
Nagging on my mind every hour?
Does she know?
How often I’ve dreamed of dragging her off her pedestal?
Deep down, you’re really shallow. Everything inside you screams hate Yet every glance you give me is filled with love. Your tongue whispers of our grand fate, But your fingers begin to lace Closing down on my throat.
What is it about me you love so much? Whisper in my ear dear, For I can play this game too. You, my darling, Are just the bait All that you fear is coming near.
Are you eager to begin? Trying to snake your way into my heart Unsuspecting of the parasite who’s been by your side all along.
You, an apple with an already rotten core. Why would you notice me? Soon you will. The end will come for you And your silly game dear. I’m the nightmare from your happiest dreams.
Thin white scars littered her dark skin, in no way reminiscent of the manner for which she had received them.
Some believed her to be one of _those. _People so unhappy with the life they were given that they caused themselves harm to feel alive.
Others saw the scars that covered her stomach and believed her to be the victim of abuse.
None of this was fact, for if they looked deeper they would see a young woman with the strength of a lion.
What they didn’t know was that on occasion her ears would ring, as if considering reintroducing the world of sound back into her life.
In the rare occasion she was asked what happened to her, she always replied honestly.
“When I was younger, I was in an accident. The cuts on my hands were so severe that the doctors recommended surgery to get rid of them. But I wanted to keep them, as a memory of what I survived.”
That was usually when people either backed off or cautiously asked what exactly happened.
She never backed down from a question asked out of curiosity. So she told them, describing the horrors of the accident that ripped away one of her five senses.
Most people are shocked to learn that she can’t hear a word of what they say, no matter how loud they speak.
They ask her how she can understand them and why she doesn’t sign.
“Would you understand it if I did?” She would ask teasingly.
They always say no.
And believing they now know everything, they leave. Curiosity sedated.
They never stay to understand the pain that chimes through her heart, or the full extent of what she lost that day.
Everything I do is to show my love.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Every ounce of my being is put into loving them.
The bright bursts of happiness begin with them. Growing and growing till my love fills the room.
They look at me with the most love when I take my beautiful blade and run it down their skin. I love the way they always shake with anticipation and scream with pleasure.
I know I have made it into their hearts the moment they start begging.
To reward them I allow us to share our most intimate moment together.
Me, fingers laced beautifully around their throat, slowly tightening until their voices turn into little gasps of happiness.
I like to put my lips on theirs then, staring into the loving eyes of my beloved.
Once their hands grow weak on my body, I let go, allowing them to voice their love once more.
Out of consideration for their health I give them all a 30 minute rest between each round, as to not tire out too quickly.
After that time has passed, round two begins.
This round is my second favorite.
I plant myself on their laps, open up their shirts and carve my name beautifully into their skin.
Sometimes my beloved’s curse at me in that moment, causing me to accidentally cut a little too deep. But I don’t like doing that because then the fun of the wedding night ends a little too quickly.
“My beloved husband, you wouldn’t believe how long I’ve waited to spend this wonderful night by your side.” I say this to them just as their eyes start to flutter open after the second bout.
When their eyebrows wrinkle at the center, I confess my love with my mouth, lacing our tongues together. They always mess around, trying to back away and fight my kisses, but I know they know.
Everything I do is to show them how much I love them. Everything.
Finally we begin the third and final round.
My favorite.
It is then that I cut the ropes tying them down, bringing out the cuffs instead.
Slipping my body underneath their strong arms I bring myself closer, till every part of my body was touching them.
This is usually when their breaths get shallower in response to my closeness and their affection towards me.
They are barely able to get a word out when I run my hands through their short hair and along broad shoulders.
Wrapping my arms around their neck I embrace them. I don’t mind the grime that transfers from their skin to mine. I know they can’t help themselves.
Most of the time they keep their eyes open so they can admire their wife as they pass on. On the ones that don’t I remove those pesky little eyelids that try to keep them from glancing upon me.
Their beloved.
Those who devote their life to me for eternity.
And love me always, just as I love them.
Voices. Rough and agitated.
Was that Japanese I was hearing?
Opening the only eye that wasn’t swollen shut, I analyzed the scene. The ropes that tied my hands and feet to the chair were braided with nylon making them impossible to break.
These guys were obviously minorly intelligent as they had bolted my chair to the ground.
From what I could hear, I was in an open space with 6 men on every side. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the gun strapped around on of the guys’ neck. It was a basic assault rifle, holding around 10 rounds. This was so cliche I could laugh.
I knew in about 30 seconds, one of the men would notice I was awake, then the interrogating would begin. Judging by the man I had been pursuing before this all went down, they would start with my fingers. That way, I could still communicate the information they were searching for. Remembering my perfectly manicured nails, along with the beautiful pearl acrylics I had just gotten, a plan of escape began to form.
And so it went like this:
As soon as they realized I was awake, I began my attack on the idiot who decided to place his pathetic knife under my chin.
Lunging as far as my restraints would allow, I turned my head around the sharp blade and bit the man’s exposed wrist. It was done in such a way that his knife dropped behind my back, right into my eager hands.
Within seconds I had sliced through the ropes entangling my hands and had reached up to grab the back of the man’s neck to bring him down. Ramming my palm into his throat, I brought him to his knees. I then put the weapon he had just given me to use.
Getting rid of the rest of them was easy, since like most criminals, they didn’t have much going on inside their skulls.
It only took a minute total to ensure that I was the only breathing body in the room, which was honestly a bit longer than usual.
But hey, I managed to do it without breaking a single nail.
Sounds like a win to me.
She was everything to my nothing. The beauty to my beast. Everything she touched turned to gold, while everything that hit my fingertips turned to dust. I have to turn what is hers into what is mine.
Sometimes I think I would do anything to take over everything she has. To claw my way up from the depths of her shadow and take over. I daydream of forcing her to her knees, of forcing her pretty little face to look me in the eyes as I make her watch me take her place.
I would have the loving family, not one that curses at my very appearance.
I would look in the mirror and love every curve of my body and face.
I would live a conscious life, enjoying every moment.
I would no longer be suffocated by her presence, forced into subjugation.
I could finally exist without the shadow of HER looming over me, crushing me down.
All it would take is one step, one push.
That was all it took, for everything to be mine.
Walking to the mirror, I looked through my eyes for the first time, taking in my beautiful features and silky hair. Taking in everything. The sounds of someone cooking in the kitchen, finally heard first hand. The shocking mint of the gum in my mouth. Eww. I don’t like mint.
Turning from the mirror I looked around my room.
Absolutely fabulous. Every little thing was perfect. I wanted to scream, to run around and actually FEEL everything around me.
A splitting pain erased all thoughts from my head. I recognized the feeling, listening to her.
Making my way to the mirror once again I looked myself in the eye, making sure she could see me.
Concentrating, I forced the walls of her cell to thicken, ignoring her screaming, crying and clawing.
What a drama queen.
Allowing a long awaited smile cross my face I shoved her so deep into my subconsciousness that she wouldn’t make a peep for at least a month.
Everything is finally mine.
All I had to do was destroy myself.
Yay.
Then we jump.
The force of the wind yanks my hair from its loose bun. Turning my face I looked into the face of my dear sister. Her eyes remained focused on the water waiting for us below.
The reality of our current situation shattered the calm I had felt before now. I could feel the scream itching to escape my throat and my mind raced to find a solution.
There was none.
There was no way out of this. One of us had to die simply because both of us had been born.
That is the way it was. If more than two children were born to a set of parents, two of them would be chosen to have their life decided by the pool.
There were rare occasions where both siblings survived due to being identical in power and potential. WE thought that we would be one of those due to the fact that we shared identical DNA. But now that we’d jumped, I was beginning to doubt our similarities.
My mind flashed back to all the moments where I had pulled my punches, both physically and verbally in order to match my sister. I have been doing it for so long that I don’t think I know what its like to give a 100% in anything anymore.
In the seconds between our jump and us hitting the water, I came to the realization that only one of us would make it out of the water alive.
And I am almost certain it’s going to be me.
Then, we hit the water.
My clothes floated into my face and my feet grazed the bottom of the pool. Pushing up, I reached my hand towards the sun, swimming my way to the surface. When my face left the water, and my eyes opened, I saw the world in all of its true beauty.
It was as though I could see the threads of life connecting every living thing. The whole world seemed to be in high focus and colors I had never seen before peeked out from the forest by the shore.
The air that entered my lungs was crisp, and the grass had never felt softer as I pulled myself from the pool. Flopping on my back, I stared at the sky for a second to take everything in.
The moment the realization hit me I sprang to my feet, my eyes searching the clear blue pool for any sign of my twin.
Nothing.
I thought that the death of my lifeline would cause a hole to open in my heart, but instead I felt more whole than ever. My brain told me that this was wrong, but every nerve in my body was screaming about how right this was.
What kind of person rejoices at the death of family? Is there something wrong with me?
The sound of feet against the dirt shook me from my thoughts. A hand fell onto my shoulder. Attached to the hand was my brother, my mother close behind him.
“Which one are you? Kora or Nile?” His eyes searched mine for a second. Apparently he found what he was looking for because his eyes softened and his shoulders sunk in what appeared to be relief. Pulling me towards him he wrapped both of his arms around my body, seemingly about caring about my soaked clothing.
“Welcome back Kora.”
His tiny whisper into my hair was all it took. Tears flooded from my eyes and I buried my face in his shirt.
I don’t know why I started crying. Was it joy from surviving? Or was it grief from the death of my sister? The expression on my mothers face when she learned who I was pretty much settled that for me.
I had held my arms out for a hug, but all I received was a look of disgust and her tears as she went to the edge of the water, her eyes searching desperately for a glimpse of Nile.
While I felt no joy in the death of my sister, I was happy to be alive and happy to finally see my mothers true feelings about me out for the world to see.
Looking around, I saw the looks of judgement the people were giving my mother as she searched for the daughter that would never return, ignoring the daughter who would forever be.
After all, everyone knew what happened to those that didn’t survive the pool.
They were absorbed completely into the spirit and body of their sibling.
Placing a shaking hand over my heart, I sent my brain on the hunt for something foreign.
Then I felt it, a tiny little string that wasn’t there before. Reaching out my conscience, I tugged in the string.
“I always knew it was going to be you. Congrats sis. You get to live.”
There she was. Now forever a part of me.
I don’t know whether I should be happy or worried. Honestly leaning towards the latter.
Whatever, I’m sure it would be fine. This is normal right?
“Actually, I read somewhere that the one that gets absorbed is supposed to be barely noticeable, but it seems like I am doing the exact opposite.”
My sisters voice ringing loudly through my skull only enforced my previous concerns.
Well, shxt.
I am made entirely of flaws, stitched together by good intentions. Everybody’s little doll, perfect for all your dirty jobs yet not enough to receive your love.
All I desire to be is seen.
Appreciation is the hope that weaved my body.
Love is the thread that holds me together.
Hope is the ichor that pumps my heart.
You all look at me with wariness and disgust, already naming me “Monster” in your head. Little do you know,
Those pieces that you are missing, all the imperfections and problems,
are the pieces I am made of.
“Listen. You might think this to be a little weird considering we aren’t that close.” My hand sneaked its way to my curls. “But I figured that I had nothing to lose, with me going to college soon and everything.”
My voice was shaking. My fingers tangled themselves in my hair, twisting and pulling. Forcing myself to look up, I met his eyes. The expectant look on his face made my heart drop and all thoughts of confessing morph into plans to escape the situation I had put myself in.
“I mean, it isn’t that weird, we are friends aren’t we? After all, we’ve known each other since forever.” His voice only succeeded in amping up my nerves.
That doesn’t mean I know you. __ __ Every moment between us from the past five years flashed through my head, sobering my rushing thoughts. Taking a deep breath to calm my anxiety, I surged forward. __ __ “Yeah, but…Well it was probably obvious to you but, I’ve liked you. For quite a while at that.” When he opened his mouth I put my hand up, continuing. “I am not looking for an answer, I just wanted to tell you to get it off my chest before I leave.” __ __ I didn’t miss the small flash of disgust that flashed across his face. Almost instantly my nerves faded, leaving nothing behind them. __ It seems the butterflies in my stomach ate all my feelings too. __ __ Hands now steady, I picked up my drink, taking a long sip before leaving back in my chair.
Even though my whole entire world was on pause, the cafe around us was bustling and rambunctious.
I want to leave. __ __ A cough drew my eyes to the boy sitting across from me.
“I thought you heard already. From my brother or someone. But, I actually got a girlfriend.”
Instantly the air was sucked from my lungs as I stared at him in confusion.
Him? The boy who couldn’t even talk to girls, much less date them?? Knowing that I would kill myself if I didn’t, I took the knife and plunged it even deeper into my heart.
“Oh really?! That’s exciting, what does she look like?” The instant relief I saw on his face soured the milkshake in my stomach.
Scrolling through his phone a bit, he brought up a picture, handing his phone over to me.
**_Of. Freaking. Course.
_**She was stunning. And the complete opposite of myself.
Her eyes were a glorious hazel instead of my deep brown.
Her skin was pale and clear, nothing like mine, dark and marred by acne scars.
Her lips were pursed in a seductive manner, ask she eyed the camera in a way that would make anyone blush.
Within a second, I felt more hideous than I’d ever been before. My body was burning with embarrassment.
_You spent all that time liking him in the softest way, all for you to not be his type. _ __ How would you ever expect for him to like a black girl? __ _Every guy you rejected for him must be dying laughing. _ __ __ It’s sad how pathetically devoted you were. How did you let it get this far? __ _Why would you let a single boy have this much of a hold on you? And to think you claimed you would do anything for this boy. _ __ _Can you? _ __ Step away so he can be happy with the love of his life? __ __ __ __ Every insecurity I’ve ever had was running through my mind.
Every tiny little devil that had tried to take over my life, but was held back by hope.__ __ __ __ __ And to think that guys wonder why girls have a hard time falling for men.
It’s simple really, their affections are fleeting, and no matter what they do, they are always never yours alone.
In those seconds, listening to my first love rant on and on about his new girl, I made a monumental decision.
I will never pursue a man first ever again.
If the Lord God has intended a man for me, let his devotion and love be unbreakable.
Let his eyes never wander and his affections never waver.
Day 1
My therapist says I have to start journaling my “feelings”. How do I even do that? How do I put all the emotions raging through my body, down on paper?
What does she want me to say? That I’m okay? I mean I’m not, but if it will get her off my back, I can pretend. I can.
I think.
Day 3
My mom got mad because I skipped yesterdays journaling. Even though yesterday was the funeral service.
I’m sorry, but I don’t think that writing down a few words is going to erase the image of my fxcking sister laying in a casket.
Even though they tried to hide it, the bruises around her neck were still there. They want me to write about my feelings after that?
How do I explain to my mother the fact that don’t want to live anymore? That I could have done more to help Mira when she was struggling? I could have seen the signs that my little sister was planning to hang herself? How am I expected to live without her? How is Zo going to learn how to live without her twin sister?
She hasn’t come out of her room since it happened, appearing for only an hour at the funeral before returning home. If there is a God out there, he must be cruel to take away my 10 year old sister.
Is he happy now? That he has taken away our family’s will to live? That my mom drifts through life like a zombie? That Zoe is mute and isolating herself?
Yeah I think I’m done with this shxt
TWO YEAR’S LATER
I thought I should update this journal with all the things that have happened since my last entry. I don’t know why, this is extremely stupid, but I feel that it is necessary.
3 months after the funeral, Zoe started to speak again. It took five months for mom to realize that we should be celebrating Mira’s life, not barely scraping through our own.
6 months after the funeral, mom took us to the nearest Christian church. A one hour service left us all in tears, kneeling before the altar.
One month after that, mom and I dedicated our lives to Christ. I can’t even begin to explain the liberation that came with that experience.
Though it took her a while, Zo eventually gave her life to Christ as well. Hers was the hardest to watch. The moment her head came out of the water, the tears began to spill.
This was the beginning of our lives. Instead of holding a depressing memorial for Mira every year, we actually decided to throw a party and talk about all of our best moments with her. Which I know is super cheesy, but it made the loss easier to handle.
Anyways, that is pretty much all that has happened. I am waiting for God to send me a wife though.
I would say I am going to keep up with this journal, but let’s be honest, as soon as I close it, I won’t be opening it for a LONG time.
Chao, Luka
THREE YEARS LATER
OMY FREAKING GOSH. I can’t believe it, the day has finally come, please Lord, if she is not for me, remove her from my life.
I literally almost took out this girl who apparently just joined our class 3 months into the school year.
And not a good take out, no, like the clumsy idiot I am, I practically tackled the poor girl when I tripped walking into class. Just the thought of it makes me burn in embarrassment.
I just met the most beautiful girl EVER and I just had to screw up our first encounter. They say the first ten seconds you meet someone are the most important. I really hope that is wrong.
Anyways, I thought I was done seeing her after first period, but NO, guess who is my new seat mate for 3rd? HER OF COURSE. I had to work so hard the whole period to not reach over and play with her goddess braids. Cuz that would be creepy. Does that make me a creep? Anyways, her skin, uhhhhgggggg, she literally has the most pretty brown skin. Her face when she loooked at me??!
Dead, deceased.
She was literally stunning, but not in a conventional way tho. She had acne scars on her cheeks, and new acne appearing, but I still can’t help but think that she is the most exquisite and gorgeous girl I’ve ever in my entire 18 years on earth, seen.
Please Lord, let her be my wife, I don’t need to go through 17 girls to find the one, if is in your will, let it be done.
