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Member
Join Date: Oct 2003
Location: Victoria, Australia
Posts: 3
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Her Eyes Scare Me
I hate them. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. They deserve what’s coming to them.
I felt my mouth form these words, but the voice who said it was unfamiliar, frighteningly so, part me of was scared, most of me was somewhere else. All my attention and worries aimed at the single object that I watched my hand clutch, or was it her hand. I’m not sure; I tried not to notice the obscure voice that had left my mouth, and part of me didn’t notice it.
My eyes were locked on the ominous metal object that I held with a tight grip, so tight my fingers went white. I ran my other hand over its frame with a cloth, polishing it, until it was pretty and shiny. Its burnished surface held my attention. I could almost see my reflection in it, I was careful not to look to hard, incase of finding that reflection, her eyes scare me. I moved the piece in my hand, the sun catching its surface, causing a single distinct spot on the roof. I could make it dance. It caught my attention for quite awhile, I liked watching it dance.
“Peta come down for breakfast”
Her voice interrupted me, “stupid bitch” I mumbled carefully placing the piece loaded into my pocket, stupid. I know, something told me it was stupid, but she didn’t care, and she’s the one who had control again.
I sat at the table in complete silence. She chattered away unconcerned with the fact I wasn’t answering her questions, that is, if she was asking questions. I don’t know I wasn’t listening. I was careful not to listen. I watched my food, fiddling around with it with my spoon, making shapes, avoiding eating it. She was unconcerned with that too.
She was good at hiding it. Good at hiding the fact she had put those tablets in my food. Good at hiding the fact she was trying to poison me. She wanted me dead, and she was going to do it. Just like she killed daddy, she hung him in the shed. She made it look like suicide. She’s smart. She won’t get caught.
She kept talking, I was careful not to look at her, but she kept talking, and I was careful not to listen to hard. Cause if I listen, she will try to make me die, like she did yesterday, lucky I didn’t pay to much attention.
She’s pretty. With long black hair, and deep brown eyes, and lovely gentle fine features. It’s a wonder that someone so pretty can be so mean. Dad loved her. Dad loved her and she could make him do anything, he trusted her. I won’t trust her, look where trusting her got him.
She finally realized I wasn’t listening, I noticed by the change in her voice, it was now lined with a distinct impatience. I felt her hands brush my face, her breathe down the back of my neck. I wouldn’t look at her, I couldn’t look at her. I knew this angered her.
She spoke quietly now, almost dangerous. I could tell she was displeased with me.
And now, she forced me to look at her, grasping my face tightly her fingers dug into my skin, I tried to pull away, but she still gripped me hard. She watched me with those brown eyes knowing that If she looked at me long enough I’d do what she wanted.
She collapses to the ground, She fell hard to the side, the metal piece in her pocket dug hard into my leg. My hands fumble in my pocket, as she speaks and feels through me once more, I look at it, no control over myself I cry. My tears falling over its attention seeking frame as the light danced across the ceiling once more.
Her hands explore its frame, the trigger teasing her fingers, Its mouth touches my face, the cold metal sending a strange sensation through my body. I go numb….. Then nothing…
Why did she kill me?
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"Things Just Get Better" - The Happy Sideshow
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