PINK

2

'Why do I crave for his attention

When I know he doesn't care for me at all?'

It's 5:59pm and Iara is waiting outside her house. Clad in a long trench coat over ripped jeans and causal blue shirt Iara stands between the two tall trees overlooking her house. The cold breeze rustles the leaves and causes her brown curly hair to fall out of its bun. She turns to see her favourite baby blue ribbon fly away with the wind.

"Ah." She whimpers as she follows the ribbons trail. It reminds her of an oval shaped ball; the ball's direction send the person chasing it every which way, each movement unpredictable.

The wind picks up and flailing are the ribbon and Iara alike. Her gaze fixed on the azure satin material she sees it being grasped by a hand. The hand belongs to Braden.

He holds it our for her and she takes it. Letting out air through her nose in relief.

"Let's go." He says.

The engine hums monotonously as they drive along the empty road. Iara does not know where exactly the party is and the new location terrors her. She looks towards Braden in hope for some reassurance, but she knows that plan was destined to fail before it began. He turns towards her, stares at her eyes blankly and continues on driving.

She blinks and looks out towards the window on her side. Noticing the smudges on the glass she gently traces her finger along the lines, this creates more marks. Braden furrows his eyebrows and takes a quick glance towards her.

He pushes down on the break peddle causing Iara to hurtle fowards, the seat belt cutting her skin.

"What the fuck Iara?" He yells.

"What?" Heart palpitating.

He scrambles to take of his seatbelt and swings the car door open with such rage that it nearly snaps off the hinge. Iara is confused but sits patiently.

He comes over to her side, veins sprouting from his neck. Pulling the car door open the cold breeze flys towards Iara but her trench coats acts as a barrier.

He licks his pointer finger and scrubs the stains on the window; Braden's attempt is futile. The grey mark just smudges more and soon enough, one half of his car window is blurry.

"Fucking hell." He spits, clutching at his hair with both his hands.

"It's not a big deal." Iara speaks truthfully, as she cannot understand why Braden would be so mad for such a little problem.

"How? My window is stained! All because you couldn't control your fucking hands!" He suddenly grabs Iara's finger and squeezes it tightly before throwing it back towards her.

Iara, in a state of tonic immobility, detracts from her situation. She finds her inner-peace amongst the external abuse. In her mind she is weightless, flying above the car and her body. In this experience she is shed of all the weight of her conflict.

'What is causing my sadness?'

She echoes to herself.

'Why do I feel trapped?'

Her awareness is heightened as are her senses.

She feels a rope tie around her left ankle, a second around her right. Her bottom half becomes heavy and she feels herself falling from her current space. She feels a weight dragging her down back to earth, she has lost control and her soul becomes heavier. The lightness decreases as the load increases, each inch further down, another piece of external weight is attached to her being. Her ears begin to ring, the volume elevating to a deafening level as she descends.

The silence suddenly dissipates and she feels earthly again.

Her eyes dart frantically to discover blood all over her hands which lay in the crook of her crimson stained jeans.