Post by Talia Winchell on May 17, 2013 23:49:42 GMT -5
Once upon a time there was a girl with dark blonde hair and dampened hopes who could not be trusted alone, nor did she trust herself to be alone; especially as of late, when the nonexistent monsters and perhaps their voices, depending on the day, would follow her and seemed to be especially malicious, perhaps out for her blood. Those voices were one of those things that she had resolved to never speak to anybody about; to her, they were a sure sign that she was drowning in her own thoughts. Perhaps that was possible after all this time, for she certainly felt it. Throughout the course of the past few days, she had felt especially... wrong, for lack of better word. With the voices came the nagging feeling that she did not belong, that she was the one jigsaw puzzle piece that could not fit no matter how you tried to make her. But of course, trying to jam in that one thing that didn't belong; well, it was a hopeless cause. And that's exactly what Tal Winchell was, a hopeless cause with wilting wildflowers as eyes. Those wildflowers had once been spry and youthful, and had been in full bloom... what, a mere year ago? It was amazing what just a little time could do to age a person. Much more than a year had been compacted into the brutal months, and they had left her defenseless. Bleeding out, even, with nobody to come to her aid as the crimson settled on the cold ground.
Once upon a time, there was a girl whose last bits of resolve crumbled as those wilting wildflower eyes settled upon a clean, sterile white plastic container that would ordinarily do no harm unless the user made it so. This girl still could not be trusted alone, and here she was; the only occupant of the ordinarily crowded space that she could not stand. This particular girl felt incapable of forming a coherent thought, and even if she had been able to, it would have done her little to no good. Because nothing she did would do her good; good had become something of a foreign concept, if she were completely honest with herself. The boy who had been the rock on her shoreline was as close to gone as it got now, and that was just one of the many factors that had caused invisible hands to push her over the edge. It was impossible to articulate how isolated and alone she felt.
Once upon a time, this same girl dropped the bottle of pills and gave herself a slash on each damned wrist for her misbehavior, then waited no more than fifteen long seconds before picking it up again and unscrewing the lid of it. Tal peered at the contents of it, not warily nor eagerly. Her eyes lingered on the neatly shapen pills, all created from the same mold. Just like humans, they were nothing special; all created for the same mold, destined for the same existences as every other of its kind. This was part of why she felt she were destined to escape on that desperately dusty twilight - all people were trapped and destined for the same ordinary life. And what kind of existence was that? At this, she actually laughed. A slightly bitter laugh, the kind that echoed throughout the empty cabin and caused her to jump at her own voice; to her, it was but an equally bitter reminder of her existence that continued to taunt her.
The daughter of Hermes tipped the sterile bottle until a fair few of the vaguely copper-colored pills made their respective ways into her waiting palm, halfway observing the twilight with pinpricks of light that would soon devour everything immortal and otherwise. The decision was rashly made, and the thoughts that she conjured up herself overwhelmed her. The lush forests of her minds were beautiful and simultaneously dangerous, and now, they had caught fire. The burning stretched for gods knew how many miles until finally those fragile walls that held her broke at the same time as her resistance. That little bit that remained dissolved as she brought her hand up to her mouth and consumed those pills that she had thought of unconsciously for gods knew how long. It was only after she did this that she was aware of the monster's voice in her head, malicious as ever. Repeating the same word over and over again, echoing until the word unhinged from its meaning; that meaning that Tal was oh so familiar with. Die.
After that, nothing was clear enough; her mind was brimming with murky, dangerous waters that had overcome the fire but were not an improvement. Later, Tal would not be able to tell you whether or not her vision could focus; she would only be able to tell you that the pain was unbearable, nothing like anything physical or even mentally she had felt in her eighteen years ever before. If she could have screamed, she would have, but the motions she felt as though she needed to go through disappeared somewhere before her body could perform them.
She lost track of time; as soon as she consumed the pills, all thoughts of chiming the hour had left her. But through this time, these minutes that she was alone, the pain and the fire consumed all that was left of her. And although she could not sleep, she became unaware of the footsteps and the creaking of the door. She would not register the horror that she would cause her caring brother. Though the daughter of Hermes was aware that she was alive, this was not quite what life felt like. She was convinced she was dying, and nonetheless, she chided herself that she had failed for reasons that were unclear to her. Stupid stupid bitch, can't even kill yourself.
It was the one thing that she thought she might have succeeded at, but when she looked back, all it was was beating the Greek gods at their very own game. She was just a pawn, and as the pawn, the last thing she could do was defy the being sitting behind the black and white chessboard. Those who controlled them all were tethering her to the earth, despite the fact that she despised it beyond words.
Die die die.
Tagged for Jamian McCovy.
Listening to Stay by Mayday Parade.
Listening to Stay by Mayday Parade.