Windsong

Blood. So much blood, I’m covered in blood, my vision is painted red and my heart is pounding, a steady beat mocking the fact that he wouldn't have a heart. That his wouldn't beat, that he couldn't live.

A mistake, another mistake that followed that very first mistake, that very first horror. A scream, I think it's coming from me, as i see the insides of the boy that should have been mine. My mother, a horrified face, wide eyes, tears running down her porcelain skin, made up to perfection. The room, smelling of plastic and hospital food rushing with doctors and nurses, saying that there was no need to scream, no need to panic.

I screamed anyways; sweat pouring down my face, mixing with blood and tears. My mother leaving the room, a hushed goodbye, never to be seen again.

A hellish nightmare; not only a nightmare, but a memory. My pillow was wet with tears and I was choking on sobs as I woke up. My hand instinctively went to my belly, searching for the bump that wasn't there. Searching for that promise of a new start that had died, vanished like a puff of smoke, taking my happiness with it. I screamed a little bit, my insides tangling up, making me puke all over my bed, all over my pillow that was wet with crystalline tears. I ran to the washroom, horrified with the image that greeted me in the mirror. I washed my face, scrubbed the skin until it felt raw, ridding myself of the blood that hadn't been there for nearly a year.

I finished in the washroom, headed out into my room, to get the dirty sheets off my bed and remove the remnants of the night and the horror. Tears poured out at the sight of a painting, stinging my raw skin and even more so, my raw heart. The painting should have been buried away in a treasure chest, hidden in my closet, yet my nightmares had come with sleepwalking, a stupid habit that I couldn't wait to get rid of.

A digital clock told me it was five A.M, a promise of a new day, and for me, a new heartbreak. I threw the sheets into the laundry, and headed back to the washroom to get ready for hell. I shed my pajamas, and waited for searing hot water to pour over me. I was out in no time, my body clean and perfect, giving no clues to what had happened in the past.

No clues to what had killed me inside.

I did my hair, to give off the vibes that I was fine, just fine. That was what I was supposed to be, right? Like nothing ever happened. Like everything that had happened was just a blip in everyday life that I’d already overcome.

It had changed me in more ways than one, and that was never going to change. But it didn’t mean that I had to be broken up over it… Who was I kidding? I couldn’t fool myself. Sobs would spill over me if I hadn’t been wearing makeup, if I hadn’t had school that day.

The tears came often, but they wouldn’t come today.

Not until I’d gotten through it all, later I could crumble and cry and all the things that I needed to do. For now, I needed to be fine.



English was my homeroom. It was where I started the day, and more importantly, where I saw Jake again. He was introduced to the class and sent to a window seat that wasn’t too close to me. Yet, he recognized me, and he smiled. He waved me over when the class was finished; he wanted me to take him to his Art class, which was conveniently near my next class, history. I said okay, because this boy made me feel droopy, weak in the knees, a feeling that was unfamiliar but amazing.

He smiled a lot, much as he did at the arcade, the night before.

“So, I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more yesterday. Your friend interrupted…” He left the sentence at that because there wasn’t really any other way to say it without it being mean.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” My voice came out soft, hardly heard, yet so loud in my ears. Talking about this sort of thing shouldn’t, and couldn’t happen. He looked at me with a concerned look, which, I admit, had been nice, but we were in territory that couldn’t be touched. I was glad we were near the class, because it provided a good distraction. “That’s it, bye Jake. See you around.”

My day went normally then, no other classes with Jake, but I had lunch, where he glanced at me but there was no conversation, just an oblivious boy looking at a broken girl, talking to other girls, girls that had no bruises or scrapes in their hearts, normal girls for a normal boy.