The Girl With Tattoos • Original Version

The Girl With Tattoos (26)

The wind blew my hair everywhere, blocking my vision then flying backwards. Bright lights blinded me when the my hair wasn't and the cigarette between my fingers threatened to burn out.

Throwing it down to the ground, squishing with the tip of my sneaker, I kept walking forward, allowing myself to wander anywhere.

Trees to my right and the basically abandoned street to my left. Tiny buildings were barely noticeable in the distance, its brick contents standing out against the blue and green. I kicked the surrounding pebbles, trying to clear my thoughts. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to remember.

I never did.

I left my headphones at home stupidly when I traveled back to get an umbrella, speaking of how the sky was starting to cloud over, giving the afternoon a lingering of eerie darkness. The wind didn't help and neither did the little sunlight peaking through the creaks of my hair.

The sidewalk slowly became more cracked, dirt and paint staining the concrete. Buildings that seemed far away just moments ago were now towering me. Their windows were shot out, the glass covering the path ahead. I could easily see inside and it was even worse than the exterior; the walls were peeling badge and noticeable water damage around where the walls and roof meet, entry ways were blocked by dressers and bed frames, giving me a tiny ping of curiosity and paranoia. A bathroom was wide open, no shower curtain and the toilet was almost at a 90 degree angle, the once white bowl now stained a disgusting shade of brown. The tiles were broken and falling apart. It seemed like a cliche horror movie.

My stomach dropped and dread washed over me. If I had balls, they would be screaming for me to run. I had a gut feeling shit was going to go downhill, and fast.

Quickly turning around to head home, which was miles away, I swear I could feel the hairs stand up on my neck and something move to my left.

My mind said to look but my gut said to act clueless. Weak. Something I definitely wasn't.

Thunder grumbled and the sky lit up for an instance before going dark again.

Hopefully I'll make it home before the sky broke and the rain came pouring down to the Earth.

I can't remember why I decided to take a long walk and go so far if I knew a storm was about to hit.

Wow, I'm a fucking idiot sometimes.

✦✧✦

The red umbrella I took with me on my journey got blown away when the wind picked up and left me to become soaked in freezing cold, and very itchy, rain water.

My hair stuck to my face and part of my neck, my clothes sucked to my body like a tight dress and my shoes squeaked underneath me. I waddled like a baby penguin, dripping little droplets of water throughout the house. Wet clothes were one of my greatest pet-peeves. I would honestly rather be in an oven 200 degrees hot getting burnt into a Gracelyn Pie than to be soaked in water head to toe.

Climbing the stairs, making sure I didn't fall and break my neck, I pushed open the door of my bedroom and immediately stripped from the soggy clothing. It was such a relief to be naked and out of the horrible outfit.

A shower was something that could calm me. Without a doubt.

I turned the shower on extra hot and prepared for a soothing waterfall of warm water down my body. I stepped in, letting the falling water hit my head and cascade down the back of my neck and farther. Everything seemed perfect in this particular moment.

My mind wandered as my skin turned red from the heat and I leaned on the side wall with my forearm, bending my head downward. I watched the droplets of water fall from the tip of my hair and fall to the ground, merging with the puddle.

All I could think about was Bann.

The way we hugged, the way I actually opened up to someone.

Than I remembered Jason and what he said.

Jason knows more about me than I know about myself. I could trust him with my life if I needed to. He was my brother, but not.

He knew what was happening at home in the past, he was there when Milo hurt me, he cared for me afterwards when no one else would. Jason was always there; no doubt about it.

Jason and Seth were in-fact my brothers, my protectors, my saviors. The only difference between the two was Seth was blood.

My thoughts shifted to speaking and my hand absentmindedly reached up and held my throat, my thumb rubbing it up and down.

The other hand softly touched my stomach and felt the bumpy lines crossing it. My long fingers caressed my side, then to my back, grimacing at the familiar feeling of scarred skin; that would never heal.

10 years ago, Casey, my mother, would kiss my cheek and sing softly to me whenever I fell or injured myself to make sure I knew I was cared for. She was as sweet as the cookies she baked when dad got home from work and as lovable as the teddy bear she bought me for my 6th birthday. John, my dad, used to be the coolest dad ever, making sure I didn't grow up to be a little coward and got me into football which we watched together every time a major game was on.

Than something happened and everything changed.

Dad would be out with friends during Football season and come home at 11 p.m in a taxi always a little tipsy. They started fighting and I never knew why. Just one night, all their differences came to light and they fought every singly day afterwards. Every time the curse words and insults started flying, I would rush to Chase's room and sleep next to him.

"It will all be okay Grace, I promise." He would whisper as he kissed my cheek and smiled his signature smile that covered half his tiny little face.

The stinging in my eyes told me I had enough.

It was always too much for me.

I hated the tears, I hated the memories, I despised the scars.

And that's when it dawned on me; I hated myself.

It was always a blood-bath in my mind. A never-ending war. It seemed the death and pain never stopped.

And if it never stopped, if I hated the life I was living, how am I supposed to stay alive?