"We're not who we used to be, we're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me."
If there was one thing Lurapithia Dahlis was desperate for, it was an escape. Whether it was from the stressful and painful relationship with her parents, or f...
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❝Tear me to pieces, skin and bone. Hello, welcome home.❞
♦♦♦
LURAPITHIA STOOD in front of the mirror with a stern look about her. She had come to terms with her appearance years ago. That the scars wouldn't go away, that some marks wouldn't fade, that there would always be reminders of her past lurking in her reflection.
Every time she looked in the mirror, she saw them. The bridge of her nose was her mothers, her chin was her fathers. Her eyelashes were thin and sparse, her cheeks were red and freckled, her hair.... was. She studied everything about herself and felt trapped in her own skin. As if suddenly, no breath was enough to satisfy her.
There was no escape. Everywhere she looked, she saw her father's hands, her mother's eyes. No matter where she was, and now she had to see them in person, one last time. This time, however, they would be contained, and she could do the talking.
But, yet, she still felt as if something was missing.
Some place down in the depths of her consciousness she felt unsettled. She wanted to get back at them. She wanted to scream her head off and make them feel how she felt for years and years. She wanted them to cower down in fear of her. But they wouldn't, she knew they wouldn't. She knew her mother would look away, she knew her father wouldn't change.
Lurapithia's eyes traveled away from her reflection and flicked the the drawer of the vanity. She slid her fingers over the knob and pulled it open. It contained two toothbrushes, a pair of scissors, a pack of licorice wands, and a hair pick with twisty raven hair curled around the ends.
She plucked the scissors out of the drawer. Her other hand came to caress the tangled locks of hair falling to her waist; then, a grin tickled her lips.
She would give them something to look at.
The first snip felt like a chain being pulled from around her throat. It hit the ground with a deafening swish.
The second chop felt like a boot being lifted from off her chest, it screamed on its way down.
It reminded Lurapithia of autumn leaves, fluttering and dying and making her smile, a new season on it's way. The lonely past falling away simply because it had to.
She had watched her mother do this only once. She had gone quick, snipping the dead ends and working like she would die quickly after.
