5
648 Words
Belle,
I'm sorry, I apologize so deeply as my soul starts to sin.
It was midnight, his house was dark; it had always been so dark at night. He opened the dim light from the lamp by his bedpost, his body covered by only his robes.
I hurt her.
He knelt to the floor, head low with his eyes on the ground.
I hurt her.
He was mad, his hair was messy. He was breathing so heavily, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. He slid his robes off his shoulder until he was left in nothing. Bare naked; kneeling on the ground.
Forgive me, my love.
He took the whip from the floor. The light from the little lamp shone on his back, full of deep scars, big and painful.
Forgive me.
He whipped his back, feeling the stinging pain and the blood flushing through. It felt like electricity, bolting through his body and he felt the blood flowing down his back. He repeated at a different angle, whipping himself as he groaned in pain. His eyes watery, mind clouded, eyes rolling up.
His self destruction had formed big new scars on his back, and he thought it was worth it. His habit whenever he crossed the line, his own punishment for himself, his own way to forgive himself, rather than letting the other person forgive him.
I wouldn't let the same thing happen again.
.
Just after dinner, she washed the dishes, trying to get far away from the uncomfortable silence between her and her introverted father, and the television started to stop the beautiful harmonic music video. She was frustrated but then as she looked away to the TV, she realized it was breaking news.
Two teens were found slaughtered and bare naked in the woods.
Her eyes widened, her face pale, her fingers trembling that the glass plate fell from her frail hands and crashed on the ground.
Andy Belton
Siera Graham
"Oh, Belle," Ellie gasps; kneeling to the floor and grabbed the big pieces of shattered glasses. "You're sometimes so clumsy," she laughed and when she saw that her daughter was so pale, her blood flushing down like she was a porcelain doll, standing still and big eyes.
"Belle, darling, are you okay?" Ellie stood up and felt her forehead, which felt so warm and hot but her hands were so cold. "Are you sick?" She asked worriedly. Her father who hadn't change his working clothes with his nametag still tucked, John Arleene, was of no worries. He just looked at her with his eyes unconcerned.
"I..." Her voice cracked yet soft and still. "Excuse me," she ran to her bedroom, shutting the door close and leaned to her door. She was breathing heavily, she felt like screaming but she wouldn't risk the chance of her parents hearing—no, she still wouldn't risk her parents knowing.
She was scared, so scared and fearing her life so dearly. This couldn't be happening to me.
Andy Belton, the boy who purposely threw a ball to her head, causing her to fall to the ground with her knee injured.
Sierra Graham, the girl who embarrassed her in front of the whole class that she cried in the toilet, with the world 'prude' hanging around her head.
No, it can't be happening to me.
I wouldn't have killed them, I am not a murderer. I did not murder them nor Maria.
Then, she heard three little, yet steady, knocks on her window. She tiptoed slowly, her mind in frantic. She realized her tears flowing down her cheek and her cries made her face even red. It was painful to cry silently.
She slowly slid the window open, feeling the chilly breeze of the upcoming autumn hitting her face. By the corner of the window taped a rose, and a small letter.
'I will keep you safe, my Belle'
- Writer
