Watercolour Eyes

disappointing attempt to go back

When Vanity was a teenager she always had a dark fantasy. A deep dark fantasy that wriggled its way into her head and through her mind. She always imagined herself dead. Killing herself. 

On her way to school she'd spot a tree branch hanging just right off of the floor. She'd imagine herself going there in the early hours of the morning, climbing up it and tying a noose around her neck. She'd envision herself hanging from it. Her body loose and limp, her neck broke and her mind quiet. 

Sometimes when making herself food, she'd imagine taking the sharpest kitchen knife and slitting her wrists with it. A deep cut that would cause her to bleed out, all over the floor. 

And when she was fourteen she tried to make this fantasy come to life. She and her brothers were out playing football on the green. There were a few of her brother Harry's friends there too. All scruffy young teenagers kicking the ball about, using the two benches opposite both sides of the park as places to score their goals. 

The road next to them was quite busy, not too busy but there were at least twelve cars that passed every couple of minutes. Vanity's gaze wandered over to it every now and again, she didn't know why. Putting it down to the frantic ways the cars were moving, this was a Saturday after all. 

She'd got up from the bench she was sat on, it was as if her body was moving autonomously and she had no control over it. The small breeze blew stray hairs into her face as she found herself standing on the edge of the path. 

Her toes just brushing the gravel, staring at the road with a vacant expression. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her mind felt detached, as if she were watching herself from a distance. The cars zoomed by, their motion a blur of colour and sound, an endless stream of life passing her by.

Vanity took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs. The noise of the football game behind her faded, replaced by the rhythmic whoosh of passing cars. She could hear her brothers' laughter, the shouts of the boys as they chased the ball, but it all seemed so far away now, like a distant memory.

Without fully realising what she was doing, Vanity took a step forward, her foot hovering over the edge of the curb. The thought of ending it all, of finally silencing the chaos in her mind, was both terrifying and strangely comforting. She imagined the sudden impact, the screech of brakes, and then... nothing. No more pain, no more confusion, just a blank, peaceful void.

Another step, and she was in the street, the asphalt warm beneath her feet. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the road seemed to merge with the sky. She could hear the roar of an approaching car, but she didn't turn her head to look. Her body felt weightless, as if she were floating, no longer tethered to the world.

"Vanity!" The sound of her name cut through the haze, sharp and urgent. She blinked, her head snapping up as she registered the voice. It was Harry, his tone filled with panic and desperation. "Vanity, what are you doing?"

She turned to see her brother running towards her, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. Behind him, the game had come to a halt, the other boys watching in stunned silence. The approaching car swerved, the driver honking furiously, but it was too late.

The impact was sudden and violent, the force of the collision throwing Vanity into the air. Time seemed to slow as she felt herself being lifted off the ground, her body twisting and turning in midair. She could hear Harry's scream, a high-pitched, anguished sound that echoed in her ears.

Then, she hit the ground with a sickening thud, her body crumpling upon impact. Pain exploded through her, a white-hot agony that radiated from her limbs and filled her entire being. Her vision blurred, the world around her becoming a swirl of colours and shapes.