Maître Des Marionnettes
Prologue.
The cold metal of the razor blade bit into her hand as she squeezed it tightly. She could hear the skin break from the sharp death sentence settled inside her palm. The sticky hotness of her blood dripped down and over her skin, staining the pale whiteness a deep, crimson red.
Fire exploded throughout her petite chest, forcing her to drop the blade. Her death jumped back, post-poned by the force of the eruption monopolizing her fluttering heart. She gasped for air as she fell to her knees. Her hands instinctively clutched at her throat, the jagged nails at the tips of her thin fingers sinking into the snow white skin. She could practically feel her eyes bulge out of their sockets from the lack of oxygen flowing through her collapsing veins. Her narrow face heated, and she could picture the grotesque shades of burgundy it must have been turning. Her head throbbed so terribly that she tumbled backwards, her long auburn hair splaying outwards. An unknown force had its hand upon her, as if she were its puppet.
As if the mysterious force had never existed, the being released her, allowing the oxygen she swallowed to choke her. She crawled over to her tiny bathroom, grasping at the edge of the marble sink. She got a firm hold on it, and drug herself to a standing position. Her eyes searched her reflection. The smooth skin remained unmarred, and there was no sign of struggle, other than her quickly fading fingernail marks. She shook her head at the pathetic sight of herself.
She was once beautiful, with long, flowing auburn hair that reached half-way down her perfectly arched back. Curls gracefully made their way through her shiny locks, falling gently wherever had been convenient. Her eyes had been moss green and illuminated, shining with the mischief of teenage years. Her pearly skin had glowed, as if there was a dim light radiating underneath. Her cheekbones stuck out at the perfect angle, tying her fragile appearance together.
But now, everything had totally changed. She stopped seeing the innocent beauty that everyone else saw. When she would look in the mirror, she saw a monster. She viewed herself as a horrid, obese monster, one who was malicious and spiteful. So she started doing everything she could to prove her fallaciousness wrong. Days of binging and purging, uncounted attempts at bleeding her shallow veins dry- only to end up where she was now.
She was no longer the epitome of beauty, as everyone had once seen. Now, her long hair was short and frayed, dulling more every day. The luminous green eyes were flat and lifeless, the mischievous spark long abandoned. Pale skin had developed a gray pallor, and it was sallow and unappealing. Her cheekbones did still create angles on her thin face; however, they protruded awkwardly, making her look skeletal.
Presently, tears streamed out of her almond shaped eyes. They started out gently, before escalating into gut-wrenching sobs, tearing her soul apart. She dropped to the floor, a searing pain shooting through her back when her bottom hit the wood. The self-loathing welled up inside of her, threatening to spill over and infect her even more. And, once again, she allowed it.
Fire exploded throughout her petite chest, forcing her to drop the blade. Her death jumped back, post-poned by the force of the eruption monopolizing her fluttering heart. She gasped for air as she fell to her knees. Her hands instinctively clutched at her throat, the jagged nails at the tips of her thin fingers sinking into the snow white skin. She could practically feel her eyes bulge out of their sockets from the lack of oxygen flowing through her collapsing veins. Her narrow face heated, and she could picture the grotesque shades of burgundy it must have been turning. Her head throbbed so terribly that she tumbled backwards, her long auburn hair splaying outwards. An unknown force had its hand upon her, as if she were its puppet.
As if the mysterious force had never existed, the being released her, allowing the oxygen she swallowed to choke her. She crawled over to her tiny bathroom, grasping at the edge of the marble sink. She got a firm hold on it, and drug herself to a standing position. Her eyes searched her reflection. The smooth skin remained unmarred, and there was no sign of struggle, other than her quickly fading fingernail marks. She shook her head at the pathetic sight of herself.
She was once beautiful, with long, flowing auburn hair that reached half-way down her perfectly arched back. Curls gracefully made their way through her shiny locks, falling gently wherever had been convenient. Her eyes had been moss green and illuminated, shining with the mischief of teenage years. Her pearly skin had glowed, as if there was a dim light radiating underneath. Her cheekbones stuck out at the perfect angle, tying her fragile appearance together.
But now, everything had totally changed. She stopped seeing the innocent beauty that everyone else saw. When she would look in the mirror, she saw a monster. She viewed herself as a horrid, obese monster, one who was malicious and spiteful. So she started doing everything she could to prove her fallaciousness wrong. Days of binging and purging, uncounted attempts at bleeding her shallow veins dry- only to end up where she was now.
She was no longer the epitome of beauty, as everyone had once seen. Now, her long hair was short and frayed, dulling more every day. The luminous green eyes were flat and lifeless, the mischievous spark long abandoned. Pale skin had developed a gray pallor, and it was sallow and unappealing. Her cheekbones did still create angles on her thin face; however, they protruded awkwardly, making her look skeletal.
Presently, tears streamed out of her almond shaped eyes. They started out gently, before escalating into gut-wrenching sobs, tearing her soul apart. She dropped to the floor, a searing pain shooting through her back when her bottom hit the wood. The self-loathing welled up inside of her, threatening to spill over and infect her even more. And, once again, she allowed it.
♠ ♠ ♠
Erm... New story! I know, I always usually write one chapter, and then quit updating and then eventually delete the story. I apologize, I have a problem with commitment, (; BUT BUT BUT, I have a legit excuse this time, swear, (: My laptop attempted suicide, and it may have, in fact, been successful. ): Therefore, errrything I've been working on is LOST. Including my school report due next week. FML. :|But anyways, comment this and subscribe, and I'll update more, because I have been ordered by Kiss and Run to write everyday, and if you don't listen to her, you experience her world class beat down. And we don't want that, do we? (HINT: FUCK NO!)
Haha, sorry for the novel-like author's note. (: