Blurred Souls (Editing)

Chapter 16

Upon reaching my hotel room, I quickly opened the door, surprisingly, the room was dark, for no moonlight penetrated the drawn drapes. I flipped on the light, there was no sight of Chloe or her little minions.

Somewhat relieved, I made way to bed. A letter caught my eye, and I hesistated only a moment. The letter fertilized a seed in me, and in the time it took me to read it, I had conceived, gestated, and borne the most hideous of all, angriness.

Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.

The letter said,

Dear Angel, oh the irony,

I've wrote this to remind you on how worthless you are. You are now wondering why am I wasting my time on a stupid female dog like you? Truth is I can't keep my eyes closed, I must say what I think. Your mother left you, and so did your dad. I always feel sick looking at you. I'm just stating a fact. No one cares about you, If I were you I'd kill myself, no one likes you.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
God made me pretty
What about you

Your best enemy,

Chloe

I read the words over and over again, I blinked rapidly, finally getting that deep breath. The surprising thing was that, it didn't affect me. It was like a flashback repeating itself over and over again.

In fact I was used to the hate, I must admit I cried at the cruel insults at some point, but I got over it. I kept promising myself it will end one day, I'd find someone who will love me, care about me, and make me forget everything I went through. Perhaps I was lying to myself.

I'll stay the broken, depressed, and lonely Angel.

I felt a splash of ice cold water hit me, then another. I was soaked from the waist up. I tried to speak, but shivers were chattering like a dentist's wind- up toy.

I sat on my bed, wrapping my blanket around me.

Chloe smirked, evilly, while her minions were giggling. They sounded like annoying little kids in kindergarden.

Getting slightly warmer as the minutes ticked by, "Hey," I spoke, causing the female dog to look at me, "I looked up a hobo in the dictionary and the definition was you."

The anger inside me hadn't settled down yet, I continued, "Oh my god, look at you, anyone else hurt in the accident?"

"I guess you haven't read the letter yet," Chloe smirked, after recovering from the shock.

"Oh trust me I did, are you sure you're a senior? Because it sure as hell seemed like a 5- years-old writing."

I rolled out of the bed, and silently made my way to the dresser, I bought some fresh towels and pyjama, they were watching me, judging by the curious looks Chloe was giving me she hadn't realized I am heartless. Maybe the last part is a lie.

My steps faltered as I stepped into the bathroom, not before shouting, "Barney wants a divorce,"

I have no filter.

The hot shower made me feel much better, turning it into its hottest setting.

°°

"Hello my dear child," an old man's voice chuckled.

"What are you doing here?" My heart beaten fastening, and my hands sweating.

"Did you think I won't punish you?"

"You sound like a fat old teacher I had once," I snorted, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You're worthless. Get over it, kill yourself." David repeated, over and over again.

He'd been more than generous with his insults with -You're worthless- being his favourite, with a backhand across the cheek if the mood took him.

And at times the insults would hit me very deep inside.

If we desire to avoid insult, we must be able to repel it.

"Just remember you're worthless."

I woke up sweating, shaking, breathless. It's just a nightmare, I reminded myself. Can't he leave me alone in peace?

It won't end here, it's just a day until the pain I'd been feeling for a very long time torture me with its every possible way. Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.

Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day. Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever. But Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

Later that midnight, I kept thinking of the eight words my stepfather had told me in my nightmare.

"You're worthless, get over it, kill yourself."

°

Bad things hadn't ended here yet, it's not just the fact I woke up late, but the look he got on his face scared, terrified, agitated me, almost half to death. His eyes held so many unspoken emotions yet they had a look of indignant rage in his eyes.

The lines of his face curved and formed outlines of his anger, I grew to hate that look, because I know what will happen next, and the throbbing of my heart didn't help, in fact it only worsen the situation.

Maybe my step-dad was right, I am in fact worthless, and I should die. Maybe the pain had just started. Maybe I had done something wrong to deserve this suffering.

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