PINK

17

'We are all born twins

My twin is anxiety.'

"You ungrateful degenerate!" Stephen hisses as he scolds Dante, hitting him again, right in the red spot. Iara feels sick, her stomach churns and twists with the sight.

She doesn't know what to do though. Stephen would shred her to pieces if she even tried to shove him off Dante.

"Stop please." She tries to say, Stephen doesn't hear her, but Dante does. He directs his gaze towards her frightened body, a signal, thanking her for her efforts; both of them know there isn't much that can be done.

Like a spark though, Iara has an idea. She flees towards the opposite end of the house, running past the beaming red light, she busts into the other rooms. Stephen's and the others bedrooms are vacant. Where are Sanny and Addy? She knows they might be in on this, they might capture Iara and bring her back to her room, but it was worth a try. Panic starts to set in as she sees there is no escape.

Her breathing becomes rapid and painful, each inhale like a stab in the lung. Soon enough, behind her eyes a pressure starts to grow and form into warm tears dripping down her sweaty cheeks. Disorientated, Iara hadn't a clue which rooms she has or has not entered before and this triggers the lump in her throat to rise. She slumps onto the floor, knees cradled flush against her shaking body.

"Fuck, please help me, please." She whimpers under her breath, feeling the tears pool on her knees which her chin rests on.

The indistinct demands of Stephen could be heard, and this just fuels Iara's painful panicked disposition. Lifting her head she inspects the room hazily. Too many frames made her dizzy. The same colour and pattern on every piece. Splatters they look like, something born from the abstract mind.

All she could hear is her heart pounding against her chest, its rapid beat drives her tension to multiply; a loud groan cuts through and brings her back into the moment. Stephen was hurting him.

She envisions the worst scenario. Dante's blood smattered across his sharp jawline and blond hair, but blond no more, for it turns red with his father's disdain towards him.

Iara lets out a painful scream, paired with cascading tears that burn her clammy skin. Pushing herself from up the ground she bangs open a door, she thought she had not entered before.

A scent of rotting meat smacks her. She can feel it, alive in her mouth. The taste utterly dreadful. Her stomach twists and repulsion resides in her throat, clawing its way up and in to her mouth.