Stolen Voices ✓

August 4th

hi

August 4th:

Her legs throb, her heels splintering, and her knees are grinding together. She keeps walking, though, her eyes bloodshot and stinging as she hasn't slept in two days, her nights spent in tears. She keeps moving forwards against the pressure of the wind pushing her backward, her hair whipping behind her. She moves forward, handling all of her emotions as ammunition.

Her shoulders are red and peeling, stinging at the touch. Her eyes cloud as if the watercolors of her world have faded. The crayons used to paint her picture are too broken of the point of use. Leaving her with pencils to shade. Everything feels drab, a frown etched on her face.

Words are being whispered into either of her ears, carried by the wind. People stare at her oddly, her clothing sweaty and dirty. Mara concentrates on the words and not their eyes.

Go back, they love you no matter what, the more sympathetic of the two voices whispers into her ear. This voice is thick and seductive, drawing on her heartstrings. It is overpowered, though, by the tumultuous voice whispering in her other ear.

Keep going. People can never love you, especially now. This voice is resolute. It is like glass shards in her ears, cutting the strings between her mind and her heart. It pushed her further, father, moving past the grief.

Different cars slow down, passing her, throwing her worried glances through their glass windows. She keeps moving forward, her head raised, staring at no real point but ahead. Ignoring the phone that vibrates in her hands, powering it off.

23 missed calls from Ryn.

47 missed calls from Elias.

Mara keeps moving forward with the one thought in mind; terror. She is scared, terrified that they will send her to the room with white walls. An enclosed space where no colors are allowed. Where the outside world is shut away from inside the hollow walls. Even more afraid that Elias will be mad, she betrayed his trust after all. 

Her promises are empty, weightless. They soar with the birds she wishes she can become. Being a glass doll doesn't sound so bad, she can shatter to the point of unrepair, and they will just replace her. She can be heartless, with no internal strength but stuffing. Make her destruction the fracture of a toy and not the tearing down of a person who can, or could, be.

So she keeps moving ahead, not looking back, gripping the polaroid to her heart.

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Trigger Warning beyond this point - abuse, drugs, etc.

The world seems more merciful at night time. You can blame everything on being wasted, and society will believe you. Everything immoral can be buried behind dark niches, so people will only see the immeasurable. You can be anything in the night and anyone. Mara can be Madonna if she really wants to. All it will take is a wig and some acting, makeup if she wants to go full out.

Like a child playing dress-up, you can escape your skin for the night. Shed your history like an outfit and become an astronaut flown out to space. A paleontologist, discovering the world's largest unearthed dinosaur.

A bird, soaring above it all.

But during the day, Mara feels on utter display as she walks towards the familiar abandoned warehouse. The brick exterior is decaying, as the entire building seemed to tip towards you, bound to fall. Colorful graffiti tags covering all the metal doors, locked with rusted chains that are easily breakable with some force.