Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
The first thing Michelle was aware of as she awoke was the suffocating darkness surrounding her. The air was thick and hard to breathe — all she could feel around her was dirt. As she panicked gasping for breath her mind went haywire, fingers frantically clawing at the soft soil that encased her body and threatened to take her life for a second time that night. Just as the stars behind her eyelids began spinning out of control her hand met the cool night air and with a new vigour she pushed her arms through to the surface and gasped for breath uncontrollably as she cried.
Laying on the cold ground staring up at the moon that was still full in the sky, Michelle trailed a dirt stained hand over her torso and lifted her head in wonder. Her work shirt was in tatters, a mix of brown and red staining it and an uncountable amount of slashes in the fabric that rendered it unfixable — but mysteriously enough the skin underneath was smooth as the day she was born. Not a scratch on her, it wasn't possible.
Michelle knew she had no imagined such agonising pain, never in her most vivid nightmares had she felt true pain like that. It had happened, it had been real. She had been murdered and then discarded in a shallow grave like a piece of trash.
Crawling onto her knees, Michelle clutched flawless stomach as an ache like nothing she had ever known before made itself present. Groaning in a mix of distress and despair Michelle shut her eyes.
Opening her eyes after what seemed like a lifetime she let out a startled scream. Michelle was no longer on her knees in the middle of the woods, but in her bathroom at home — bloodied and dirtied clothes discarded on the floor while her trembling hands gripped the sink with a new strength. Her own reflection frightened her, her own blood covered her chest, dried and flaking — but what worried her was the what seemed to be fresh blood coating her mouth and chest. When she opened her mouth she found the fresh, metallic substance was all over her teeth.
(she looked like a monster, with blood staining almost every inch of her body and a manic glint in her eyes that she had never seen before)
Michelle had to brush her teeth four times before the admittedly delectable taste was wiped from her palette. And over two hours in she shower scrubbing her skin until it turned red raw as she tried to stop herself from having a breakdown. Her mind was practically vibrating inside her skull and she felt icky and uncomfortable in her own skin.
It was all wrong.
Michelle shouldn't have been standing in the shower breathing, her heart still thumping erratically in her chest. The worms should have been crawling over her stiff corpse as all the insects slowly devoured her body, until a dog would ultimately lead its owner to her mutilated, rotting corpse. Her mother would cry — maybe — before jetting off back to Greece or Thailand with Mark. Her death would be a tragedy and then soon enough everybody would move on and in time the story of her death would be nothing more than a scary story the children of their quaint town would tease each other with.
She suddenly had an inexplicable hatred for poets and writers. When writers and poets write about death they talk of the beauty in decay, they don't mention the way the blood and dirt clings to you like a second skin. Lies of paradise and peace are whispered from honey-laced tongues that know nothing of death. They do not know of the pain, the agonising pain of your soul tearing away from your flesh or the flames of hell that seemed to reside inside her stomach from the moment she had risen.
Rinsing the negative thoughts away with the blood Michelle finally pulled herself from the shower and stood back in front of the mirror. Wiping the condensation away she was greeted by a familiar sight; warm blue eyes, arched brows, full lips. The only difference she could spot was that the small scar on her chin had disappeared, touching the spot gently Michelle couldn't help but get lost in a memory.
The sky's always blue, the day a never ending adventure when you're a child. Worries and insecurities created by society had yet to take root and a child's imagination could take them anywhere.
Michelle had been six when she had first really noticed Sidney Prescott — her mother would take her round the Prescott house when she went on date nights with her dad leaving her in the care of Maureen and although the two girls were the same age Sidney was painful shy and couldn't speak more that five words to the girl at a time.
It was a random Tuesday, Michelle couldn't remember what month it had been exactly but she did remember the heat on her skin and the sticky feel of the suncream her mother had forced her to wear anytime the sun so much as peeled out from behind the clouds. Michelle had been playing on the slide with a few other kids when she noticed Sidney being pushed off the swing by a group of older kids.
Never one to back down from a fight — even at a young age — Michelle had marched over and demanded they pick on someone their own size before promptly kneeing the ring leader in the balls. It had been a proud victory in her history, though her mistake had been turning her back on the boy to help Sidney up, he had pushed her roughly causing her to scrape her chin on the rough concrete. It had been painful, though apparently the bully couldn't handle the sight of blood and had promptly vomited which made her laugh through the pain.
From that moment on Sidney and Michelle had become as close as two friends could be — even joking that they had matching scars, Sidney with one on her knee from the bully and Michelle with her's on her chin.
Over the years Michelle had noticed Sidney's eyes wander to the scar almost absentmindedly with the softest brown eyes. Occasionally her hand would lift on its own accord and it would only be when her fingers were a few inches from her friends face that she would realise what she was doing, drop her hand a blush.
Michelle touched the now smooth skin with gentle fingers as she stared into her own eyes and tried to reassure herself.
"I'm okay, everything's okay."
AUTHORS NOTE! Shorter chapter because I just wanted to get this out here while I managed to force myself to write. I swear I literally have nothing to do but write and yet my mind is being a hoe smh—
Apparently I can only write a 2am in random bursts so imma crash now ugh, hope you guys enjoy! Also Michelle is my baby and I honestly can't wait for her development cause it's gonna be wild.
As always stay safe and remember to vote, comment and or share please lovelies if you enjoyed <333
