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1057 Words
So the Beast watched the velvet yellow petals of his rose behind the glass.
He watched them fall, fluttering gently down.
And he was frozen and still.
Until the last one dropped,
Thus the curse came and stayed.
~~~
I look in the mirror with eyes of pale green. My hair a straw blond. Skin pale, apart from that thing. The scar that slivers down one of my cheeks. A huge blotch. It is red and deep and ugly. Disgusting skin that marks me.
It's nothing.
I am here.
Alive.
But I can't help it. I care. I wish I could brush it away and walk with my eyes up. I wish I didn't hide in this house, lost inside my memories and the dust and silence. Although, the silence is disappearing and so is the dust. The musty smell being replaced with lemons and lavender, the windows open. The curtains allowing light to swirl inside the corridors.
This house is alive once more.
I watch him from my window. Pulling on thick stubborn weeds that cling to the dry earth. A frown on his tanned face and I know that my time of hiding is coming to an end. That I have to try. That I can't sit up here waiting for him to leave this house. I shuffle down from my dusty room. A thick hoody pulled over me, trying to hide myself from the world.
Hide myself from him.
My Aunts words ringing in my ears,
"Just try to help. Please. Just try."
The sun is pounding down from the bluest of skies, not a single breath of wind dancing in the heat. The soft smell of roses and freshly cut grass greet me and I breath long and deep.
I allow myself that one moment of calm before I slowly step out into the gardens. I don't talk to him. Instead I start pulling up weeds, slowly, carefully.
Breath.
Calm.
"Are you not hot?" His voice rings out startling close, I jump up in fright and blink at him. His eyes narrow in on my face, looking at me and I know then. I know he can see it. He can see IT.
And I should have stayed upstairs, I shouldn't have left. I should be inside, hiding. Because he is looking at me and he can see the ugly red snake that slivers down my cheek. My pulse is racing, my skin sweaty and a buzzing fills my ears.
I can't breathe.
Two hands touch my shoulders, softly, gently,
"Calm down. Breath slowly. Just calm down. It's ok. It's fine. Nothing bad is happening." His words whisper around me
Sometimes I help. Sometimes I sit in my room and write on the ceiling. But I watch him. I can't help it. My eyes glue to the way he moves with easy grace,
He doesn't mention the scar again. Our words are about art and the gardens. I find it easier to talk to him. Even though I don't speak much. It doesn't seem to bother Rev. He talks in his soft deep voice, gentle and smoothing,
"I'll burn this wood tonight and the brambles." He said earlier in the gardens. I watch him now from my window. The moon is high, round and perfect. The wood in a high tower as he flicks out a match. Orange flames swoop out crackling. Black fumes of smoke circling into the clear star sky.
The smell.
Fresh and beautiful.
I step from the window and hurry down to my old room. It seems like so long ago since I moved from here, into the room on the top floor. But it's hardly been over two weeks. I stare at the ceiling of written words and the turned around photos on the shelves. The old clothes. I don't even think about it. I just do it. I take the pictures of the old me down, grab some of the clothes. All the things I used to wear, but I'm not that person anymore. I'm a different girl. A shadow of me. Then I walk outside. Rev blinks up at me as I stroll through the grass, bare feet kissing the dew on the earth,
"Can I burn this?" I ask,
"You sure?" He eyes the clothes with a frown. I nod and he shrugs,
"Careful you don't burn yourself." I nod again and take a breath of the burning air, flinging the fabric on to the starving teeth of the flames. The photos come next. Rev steps beside me and watches them curling into ashes. I don't speak, I watch the show as I burn in the fire. My smile being swallowed up. My green eyes staring up at the starry sky and I imagine that she is flying up into the stars to dance in the blanket of heaven,
"Willow." Rev says softly. I turn my lowered face near him to show I'm listening but my eyes still stare at the flames, "You don't need to hide from me." He whispers so softly and carefully. As if he's scared I'll bolt away again. I don't.
I want too.
But I stay,
"I do." I breath. I do need to hide from him. If he see's my face, he'll look at me like Ronnie does. And he'll try to hide it but I'll see it in his eyes,
"Why?" He asks. I don't answer. But I feel his hand nearing me. Gently. Soft fingertip brushing the strands of my hair. I flinch.
Run.
I don't.
Time freezes. In the glow of the orange embers, he tucks my hair behind my ears so he can see it. The shadows of the night will hide my skin slightly but he will see it in the dancing flames,
"Don't hide Willow." He tells me softly. I take a peak at his eyes. Green mint leaves. There is no disgust within them. No pity. They are just there. He catches a tear I didn't know was falling,
"I don't know, how to not hide anymore." I mutter,
"I can teach you." He smiles softly and I smile back. The first smile. It is not a strong smile. But it is there. After three months, he has made me smile and maybe that is when I finally start to mend myself.
- Writer
