Vita Mia: My life
*****************************************
She has never wanted to take any part in the mafia world that her abusive and manipulative parents control. All she wants is to be free of them. All she wants is to be free of her trauma th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else."
Arabella Karve I walk through the garden and smile gazing upon the perfectly blooming white roses. They remind me of the peace in the world and all that is good.
Slowly a dark red liquid beings to perfectly and steadily drip onto the roses, from behind me, staining it of their purity.
I slowly reach out a single finger and lightly tap the red liquid. That's when the familiar iron smell greets my nose and takes over all of my senses. It's blood.
I let out a terrified scream and I quickly turn around only to be met with Tara's pale and dead face, staring right back at me as blood softly streams from her mouth and big blue eyes.
I freeze seeing her face and it's like seeing her put me into a traumatizing trance of memories.
I watch as she softly looks down and her terrified face is met with the all to familiar, bleeding and gory bullet wound, right where her beating heart is supposed to be.
"It's your fault" she rasps out her voice sounding as if she hadn't used it for years. She looks at me with her dead eyes and anger dances within them... anger at me.
"I am so sorry" I croak out softly as guilt grabs onto me almost like a familiar hug from behind.
"It's all you fault!!" She screams again this time violently and the warm blood pooling from her lips, splatters onto my guilty and scared face.
"This isn't real!" I sob while tightly holding my hands against my ears blocking out her screams, "it didn't happen like this!"
I scream again out of pure terror as blood streams out of the cracks in her deteriorating face— ~ I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air that is suddenly not entering my lungs. It was my fault.
I struggle to crawl out of bed, needing out of the sweaty and twisted blankets. My trembling and weak body falls straight off of my bed and harshly hits the cold stone floor.
I begin to claw violently at my throat, feeling as if I could open it up, so that just maybe air could finally grace my lungs.
Black spots begin clouding my fogged vision as tears break past my swollen eyes and stream down my palled cheeks.
I close my eyes and slowly begin taking deep breaths trying to follow a steady pattern.
I have dealt with these before and I can do it again.
I continue repeating this process for what feels like forever, until finally I am able to breathe with slight normalcy.
This would be much easier to deal with if someone else knew what I was having to live with, and if I wasn't completely alone in this world.
