| STARS.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
My heart weighed heavy in my chest, and I wondered what it would feel like to sink, to be less than I was.

Submitted: January 11, 2020

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Submitted: January 11, 2020

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I stood in my bathroom; my eyes planted on the mirror.

 

I was tired. Exhausted, even. The stars in my sight seemed to wiggle, and I felt a laugh slip out at the sight of them. My heart weighed heavy in my chest, and I wondered what it would feel like to sink, to be less than I was.

 

Maybe I would feel better. Maybe my skin would feel less tight around my bones and my hands would stop shaking.

 

My throat was dry. It was odd. Like vomit was waiting to rile up, but the path was too scratchy for it to do so. If I did vomit, would it make me feel more or less light-headed? Or would I simply stay the same, my body use to the sickness and nausea that swept through it like a navy, dangerous wave.

 

I glanced at the sink, the stars dropping with my gaze. I stood frozen for a second, my figure straight and…peculiar. My arms hung at my side, and I felt my legs begin to tremble. Maybe some rest would do me good.

 

But what if I didn’t wake up? Who would remember me? No one in this world cared enough to not forget me. I was unimportant. I was nothing more than an empty notebook, an unlit candle or a petal-less flower. Would it be better if I was forgotten? If I finally drifted away in the memories, my name the last of the credits? My body the first to decay?

 

I shivered as a breeze lifted through my window that peeked open, and I turned my eyes towards it. It was dark out, but I could just make out the outlines of the houses close to mine. I couldn’t see any stars in the sky though, just the streetlights. Maybe all the stars had came to me and chosen to light my vision instead.

 

I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and I blissfully wondered if it was a shooting star. Could I make a wish? Could I mumble out a longing life, and hope it could be perceived as a hum? Maybe this time, I could win my wish and I could finally be able to stand without slouching. Speak without stuttering. Sleep without hesitating.

 

I stretched out the tip of my top, suddenly feeling as though the fabric was tightening. Maybe it would, and I would choke on the ground, drowning in my own vomit. Maybe then I would leave and be with them forever.

 

The stars.

 

Of course, who else?

 

The stars.

 

I breathed in through my nose, swallowing my own saliva to make my mouth less dry. I shifted my weight to my right leg, one of my eyelashes falling into my eye and making me rub it out.

 

The stars.

 

I felt cold heat ripple up my back, and I stretched, my body feeling uncomfortable and my bones clicking as I moved. I licked my lips, slightly leaning over the sink, staring into my reflection, white flecks swimming.

 

The stars.

 

And then it was loud. The screaming of a widowed mother. The cries of a drowning baby. The caws of a million crows on fire. The thumping of running rabbits. The tossing of the coin. The writing of the blunt pencil. The pounding of my heart. The static of the stars.

 

And then I was banging my head against the mirror, the glass chipping into my head and my eyes glued on those from across them. My hands still leaned on the counter, the blood dripping down my head and the banging against my eardrums and the singing screams and the flowing in my veins and the thoughts in my mind and the keyboard typing and then…them.

 

The stars.  

 


© Copyright 2020 Freya Hall. All rights reserved.

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