"Painted in technicolour, drained in grey, it all felt like a canvas of shadows splashed with tints of sorrow "

t.w: self harm and suicidal thoughts

❃ B l a z e ❃

I had hoped you would love me enough to give me a reason to stay.

Her words dug into my brain, ravishing at my insides.

Seven times.

I had read the letter seven times, hoping to find something proving that it wasn't real. "I killed her" it hurt to speak, my throat dry from my silent cries.

"I killed her". The words escaped my mouth in a chant, the tears kept on flowing, and with each passing second it felt like a piece of my heart died.

How could such a thin, feather-like piece of paper hold so much power? It carried a weight that caused my world to crumble and burn into ashes. All with just a few pages I could feel my life as I knew it rotate completely, tilt on its axis and throw me into the hellfire of my own dark thoughts.

The guilt burnt inside me like a furnace, a blazing inferno scorching my body with the unbearable heat. Is this what it felt like to her? I could've saved her.

There was no escaping the fact that wedged itself into the forefront of my mind. It was all my fault.

The letter fluttered away from my trembling hands, flying under the bed, but the only thing running through my mind was her face. Her grey eyes staring at me accusingly, her nimble fingers wrapped around my throat and her lips upturned in a malicious sneer.

The pain coursed through my body like a toxin, eating away at my blood. A constriction seized my chest like a tourniquet, making each breath harder and laborious. Why couldn't I breathe? Why did it hurt so much?

Wrapping my arms around my knees, my heartbeat only increased to the point where all other sounds except the blood rushing through my body faded away. The blood- it shouldn't have been flowing, it should've stopped. I deserved to die.

My struggles paled in front of yours, you had lost your family while I on the other hand, had lost my sanity.

The agony was unbearable as it washed over me like a tsunami, wreaking havoc inside my shattered heart. The same heart that should've stopped instead of hers. This remorse was something that I would never be able to escape, it would haunt me in my sleep and chase me to my grave.

Everything hurt, each cell of my body felt like it was set aflame and the matchstick was lit by Kiara's letter. Her finals words which brimmed with resentment and hurt, all for me.

My blurred vision did nothing to satiate the spreading anguish inside me, and I let myself drown in the torment that I deserved. I had thought that parts of me were dead, but upon reading the note she left, they were revived only to be slaughtered all over again.

The ghosts of the past seemed to linger over me, and I could feel them tainting my memories and replacing them with monstrous thoughts. Did she always feel this way? Was I ever a good friend?

"It should've been me that night" the whisper chilled my bones, as I repeated Aiden's words. I was the one living a lie. He was right, he was always right.

A million thoughts were racing in my mind, fighting for a moment of consideration but they all implied the same thing- that this was all on me, a grievous weight that I would have to bear.

Tears flowed down my face like a never ending stream and I could physically feel my stomach turning and twisting into a knot, a ball of hurt that was consuming me wholly.

Another horrifying thought inched towards my consciousness. What if I deserved everything Aiden did? All the steps that I had taken towards moving on seemed meaningless, as I was thrust back to the same position, a dark abyss. The only difference this time was that instead of feeling numb, I felt everything.

I felt the pain, the hurt, the guilt, the regret all pumping through my veins like poison, destroying the very matter that made my bones, an acidic sensation careening everywhere.

How could I do this to her? How could I be so selfish? All this time I had subconsciously labelled myself as the victim, a sufferer of a tragedy bestowed upon me by my best friend and her brother while I was the perpetrator all along. What would be my punishment?

The compressions in my chest strangulated me as I struggled to engulf air, each breath feeling like my last. It should have been.

Pathetic sobs mixed with whimpers filtered through my ears, testifying to my unjustified grief. It felt like that night all over again, but more miserable. That night she had died, but right now it felt like I was too.

The guilt chipped away at me but rather than feeling a small peck, I felt large parts of me tumultuously break away and shatter. It felt like a vulture had been set free inside me, scavenging at my organs and nibbling on my soul.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" no matter how many times I repeated the words, it would never change a thing. It wouldn't bring her back, and it wouldn't change how all the blame rested on my shoulders, sheltered in my heart.

How was I supposed to live after reading her letter?

The hurt was overwhelming, feeling like my heart was bleeding out and dissolving. It felt like a million knives stabbing into me all at once, but at least I was still alive. She wasn't.

As the pain depleted me completely, my mind ran back to the empty place that it had been in for a year, plagued by shadows and the creatures lurking in them.

All the progress had been useless because I was too weak to stay that way. The urge to hurt myself grew more and more, blossoming like an ebony rose amidst the wintry darkness.

Breathing felt like a strenuous task, each breath entwined with a stab of regret. Each heartbeat accompanied with her voice saying it was my fault. A myriad of tones- Aiden's, Aunt Mary's, Kiara's all fusing into one saying that I was nothing but a mistake.

As I tried to stand up, my head spun and dizziness crashed into me with full force. Paired with the blooming heartache spreading through my body, it felt like all my life had been sucked out and replaced with an empty shell. Because that's how I felt- hollow.

Trekking to the bathroom felt like a lifetime, each step weighing down on me like the stones that had somehow lodged into my chest cavity. I closed the door behind me, bolting it shut.

My hands knew exactly what to do, repeating the same pattern that I had been following for months, as I reached out to the blade stashed inside my cupboard. As my fingers grasped the blade, the suffering seemed to fade away for an instant, before returning with a large throbbing that rendered me breathless.

I knew what I had to do to get rid of the pain, I had to unleash it upon myself.

I stripped my clothes and piled them on the floor, avoiding my own reflection. My knees buckled as I entered the shower and cornered myself. The familiarity of the situation seeped through my regressive mind, the hours I had spent locked up in the bathroom breaking down and hurting myself, all for a moment's relief that would soon be stolen.

It felt like a different lifetime altogether, but now I had no choice but to revert back to those habits. I needed to both feel the pain and release it, a paradox that was detrimental.

My breath was ragged and heavy, a whirlwind of thoughts all centered around the fact that once I succumbed to the murky darkness, there was no clawing my way back out.

I didn't even hitch when I swiped the blade across my forearm, which terrified me. This was the only thing that I had control over and I was exploiting it to replete my concept of mental peace.

The skin broke open and blood trickled down my wrists in a thin stream, contrasting to the ghastly pale colouration of my forearm.

Tracing the wound with my finger, I watched as the shallow cut stopped bleeding. A tiny voice was murmuring inside me to stop, to not take it further, but it was trampled upon by her menacing screams filling the void in my mind.

As I watched the blood flow, my hands started trembling again as her words played in my mind again.

I just want it to stop, I want everything to stop.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" my raspy words were synchronised with the movement of the blade across my skin, several cuts opening up, leaving creeks of scarlet flowing from them.

My forearm was stained red, a pit settling in my stomach at the absence of the numbness that I was seeking. Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't the pain diminishing?

The blade seemed to be my saviour, an anaesthetic to both numb the pain yet replace it with another type of anguish altogether. But right now it seemed that it was nothing but a mere object, powerless in front of the beasts reigning supreme. The light seemed elusive, fading into the distance.

I've been fighting for you for a long time, but sometimes I wished someone had fought for me.

Like a broken record, her words filtered through my mind on a constant loop, and I didn't pay attention to the number of times I had sliced my arm. It all felt like a daze, blurred by my own tears and hazed by my destructive thoughts.

It was all a living nightmare. The monsters were just the deep manifestations of my own mind, and maybe I didn't have the strength to fight back. It would just be easier to give in, wouldn't it?

The blood looked entrancing as it circled the drain in a pool of crimson, blanketing the white tiles in a garish crust. A burst of ruby though the dewy light. It was devastatingly beautiful, but beauty only ran surface-deep. All scars didn't have to be physical, some were invisible, hidden beneath veneers. As I stared at all the alluring blood, the pain wasn't even tangible.

These gloomy notion swirled through my conscience like a gusty cyclone, but one particular thought nestled itself deep into my heart, slowly pinpricking at the seams stealthily. It was terrifying, yet a sense of freedom was linked with it.

If I cut too deep, would I finally be with her?

Just a little slip of the blade and I would feel myself draining. Would the pain cease or would it multiply?

The voices calmed to a whisper, hushing dark thoughts into my ears. It felt like a fleeting moment of stillness as I gripped the sharp edge with shaking hands, each second feeling like an eternity in itself, a decision weighing upon my soul.

My eyes were still fixated upon the blood, the red rivulets dragging me through the memories of that eerie night all over again. The same memories that had been gathering dust in the bookshelf of my mind now tumbled forward, revealing all the secrets hidden within their pages, shadowed between their lines.

Her fresh blood stained across the concrete, the scarlet fluid marring the leaden cement.

Her ashen eyes, once sparkling and lively, were now deadly still and void of a soul.

Her lips, once gushing with garnet hues and rosy streaks, were now azure-edged and cracked with congealing blood.

Her skin, once warm and shaded honey, was now cold and nothing but an armour to a deceased life.

Her body, once full of life, now adopted the pallor of death, her limbs slumped at odd angles.

Her last scream resonated in my mind, silencing the voices but replacing them with an even more chilling sound.

The shower tiles that were smeared crimson now seemed like a cage, and I was trapped inside it with nothing but my mind. Instead of a solace, it seemed like a catalyst to all the bad memories I had associated with the carmine liquid.

Her death.

Aiden's abuse.

My self-harm.

It all came rushing back to me, all the days I'd seen the blood drain through the sink. All the times I'd had to cover my wounds and bandage my cuts, and I'd done it all by myself.

Red- the same shade as that of the flush roses adorning both my parents and Kiara's ligneous coffins, as they were lowered into their premature earthy graves, stolen from life and held captive in death.

Another set of cries left my mouth when it became too much to bear, when the agony tipped over the surface and I threw the blade at the wall, not being able to hold it in anymore.

"Stop it please". Burrowing my head into my knees, I repeated the same three words again and again, knowing it was futile. It never did stop.

The pain reached its crest, coursing through my veins like venom, a climactic tempo of melancholic notes. It felt like death in spirit.

How many times would I have to die over and over again to make it permanent?

Tremors seized my body, filling it up till I could feel it in my bones, radiating off my fingertips.

It all came back to me- the times when Aiden had poured his misery upon me, using his hands as artillery. All the times I'd riddled my body with scars because I couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror. The nights I had cried myself to sleep, hoping it would all just end. And now when I was so close to doing it, I backed away. I was nothing but a coward.

As I glanced down at my bare thighs, the old scars seemed to scream at me, chilling me with their harrowing stories. Chanting why I had created that dismembered artwork on my legs, making marks that would serve as a reminder to all the heart wrenching torture. Singing the reasons as to why I had sought comfort in tearing my own body apart.

Then the memory hit me.

The ghost of his violating touch, skimming my skin as if it were his own to claim. Touching me in ways that I wasn't comfortable with, stealing my choice. He had silenced my screams that day, muffling them with his palm and his terrible domination.

But right now, there was nothing to stop the cries escaping my mouth like coarse gravel, scraping my dry throat.

I could feel his hands everywhere, even when I had told him to stop. Even when I had said no.

A word that he had failed to perceive, a single syllable that he was incapable of hearing.

That's what he always did, silence my voice and maim my body. But that afternoon, it was like the last shred of humanity he had, had deteriorated into nothing but a carnal desire and hatred.

Weak. I was weak.

Even after he hadn't laid a hand on me, I could still feel the phantom touch of his fingers gripping my upper arms harshly, bruising my torso and ripping me apart with the pain. The marks had faded, but what about the ones on my soul? They wouldn't lessen with the passage of time, they would only increase and desecrate me from the inside.

The realisation hit me hard, stifling my chest and crushing my heart.

His abuse had always overpowered the crime he had done that afternoon. He had numbed me to the pain, allowing me to believe that there was nothing more that I could do than just stay silent.

He had made me feel that it was normal, that I deserved it, and maybe I did. A sliver of fault laid with me, for letting him trample my choice and smother my freedom.

I had never felt that trauma, never acknowledged it. But right now, it felt like time was lapsing and catching up all at once and I wasn't strong enough to bear those currents reverberating throughout me.

Every part of my body hurt, just like when it had been discoloured with bruises and blemishes. Why didn't the pain ever stop? The only thing I could feel right now was the torture that I had felt that afternoon, blinding white and unbearable.

Without thinking, I turned the shower knob on and instantly felt the water beat down on my head and trickle down my bare back. The hot water droplets were like his fingers, perusing my skin but violating it in the process. Touching me with a permission that hadn't been granted.

The water was boiling as it washed over my body, but that pain was only surface level. I deserved to feel it. My hair darkened to match my thoughts and stuck to my back and neck, almost strangling me as the wet strands encircled my neck like a noose.

It felt like my skin had memorised his assaulting hands as they roamed my body, and I wanted to wipe that memory away. But even as I pulled at my roots, and cried over and over again, it didn't stop. The trauma felt vivid in my head, almost as if Aiden's presence was harming me right now.

My forearms were beaded with blood that was saturated by the water, a kaleidoscope of red hues marring the surface. Looking at it, the image filtered through my mind, one after the other in a destructive loop.

The blood, it was there too, stained on the sheets. Another stark reminder of how the crimson fluid tainted and evoked all the dark memories of my life. This particular one of how I had been robbed of the last thing that I could call my own. The last barrier that Aiden had broken down with his destructive spirit.

Grabbing the loofah, I scrubbed at my skin, wanting his touch off of me. Even if it was months later, it felt like it happened a minute ago, and I needed to wash it all away.

"Go away. Please" my whimpers were interspersed with the sound of the running water trickling onto the floor. With each stroke, a second of that terrible crime played in front of my eyes, and I continued scrubbing vigorously at my skin, wanting it to just peel away and shed off. Maybe then I would feel like a new person, pure and whole.

"Stop, please Aiden don't" the memory of the moment he ripped into me, the affliction started afresh, and the scalding water burnt on my already irritated skin. The pain, both physical and mental, merged into one big cyclone and I could feel it's wreckage everywhere.

"No, no, no" My skin felt like it was on fire as I scrubbed at my thighs and arms, wanting his fingers to back away. The hot water cascaded down my naked body, embracing it, like the murky shadows did my mind.

It felt like my own twisted version of paradise in hell, one which was shrouded with smoke instead of clouds, and blood instead of sparkling streams of water.

My eyes were frantically taking all the blood in, my blood. It was everywhere, painting the walls and the tiles. Or was it a figment of my imagination? How could I distinguish reality?

The hot water rose to a steam that suffocated me in it's scalding warmth, activating a new rush of pain everywhere. But it was nowhere near close to the agony that was ripping through me from the inside.

I could feel his nails scraping my skin, leaving marks and adding scars to the already broken skin. His touch was like barbed wire piercing through my body, making me bleed with the contact. I felt disgusting.

The pulsing waves of destruction seemed to rise higher and higher with each passing second, thrashing over me like a tsunami. I was captured by the past and the present, drowning in their overlap.

If it was all my fault, did I deserve what he did to me? I killed Kiara and he killed me, but at least I was still breathing, while she was buried six feet under the same ground that seemed to be shaking. Was it justified? A life for a life?

This pain, it was both my addiction and my doom. There was no point fighting when my fate had been sealed with her inked words on the smudged letter. A letter that Aiden had been harbouring for over a year, drawing it's pain and unleashing it upon me.

Raw tears rolled down my face, but they were meaningless. Just as hollow as the shell that I was feeling like. A cavern of pain that seemed both numb yet destructive.

My skin felt dry and on the verge of bleeding, and looking down I saw it's unnerving visual, blistering and forming blooming rashes. Red- the colour of all that blood, it stained every crevice of my brain.

"Just stop, please. I'm sorry" The memories occupied my brain, filling it with the spreading murkiness. It felt as if something was raking its claws across my skin, grazing each crack and groove and tainting it with a gloomy tar.

Looking down at my body, I could almost sense his disgusting touch skimming across my chest, witness his ghostly fingers creeping across my stomach and thighs. Not being able to take it anymore, I abruptly stood up, causing a wave of nausea and dizziness to wash over me.

I almost slipped on the blood, and held onto the shower door for support, turning the water off in the process. My whole body felt like it was floating, heavy with the memories but breezing with the emptiness.

The mirror seemed to be my enemy as I avoided looking at it, instead grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my body like a shield. I felt repulsed and trapped in my own skin, knowing that it was scarred from both myself and Aiden, knowing that the same hands had been indirectly involved in Kiara's death.

The ten steps from the bathroom to my room seemed like a lifetime, each step feeling like a fight against the oncoming fatigue.

It all felt like a daze as I didn't bother bandaging my scars nor taking the time to look at the clothes I was slipping on hazily. I just needed to lie down.

But as soon as I turned to the bed, my trance snapped and my sight focused on the piece of paper crumpled in the darkness beneath the bed frame. The tears felt hot and salty as they trailed down my face in a never ending stream, losing all their meaning in such volumes.

Approaching my closet, I gingerly pulled out the hidden box beneath the clothes, wincing as my arm stung and burnt with the simple action of picking it up. I didn't even have to glance at my skin to know it was sweltering and cut open. Blood drops lined the corners of my scars, giving rise to another wave of nausea.

My eyes were blurry with the tears but I could make out the picture frame I had picked out from the box, her granite eyes shining with mirth as they pierced my dreary marine ones. It was the three of us- Jonah, Kiara and I, in Freshman year during her 14th Birthday.

Her black dress shone in the glimmering light, starkly contrasting to my white one. Our faces were illuminated by the bright smiles adorning our glossed lips. I still remembered the day like it was yesterday, my refusal to wear a dress and her persistence to get me into one. In the end she always won, then how did she lose the battle to her life?

It was all fake, everything was a lie. I had been the downfall in all our lives, a common denominator through all the chaos swirling around us.

I could hear a faint knocking in the distance, but I figured it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I was too engrossed in studying the picture in front of me with shrouded eyes, hoping it would reveal some secret, wishing that she would somehow spring to life and tell me that everything would be alright.

But deep down, I knew that Kiara had said all she had wanted to in the letter, yet I had failed to come to terms with it.

Her sandy hair brushed against her waist, mine skimming near my lower chest. Jonah's raven hair was flopping into his eyes like it seldom did, his milky skin contrasting against his dark shirt and jeans.

It was almost as if I could hear her shrieks of surprise when Mark gifted her the vinyl set she had been longing for, or smell the scent of chocolate cake wafting through the conditioned air. The way Aiden had complimented the two of us begrudgingly with a spark in his eye, or the way Jonah had bashfully gawked at Kiara the entire night.

The picture was a reminder that in that moment everything was perfect. But now I was questioning all of it. Why did she have to shoulder all of that alone? Why did Aiden have to change or Jonah have to leave? Why had I been so selfish and engrossed in my own worthless problems to notice hers?

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the creaking of my door. A tousled head of brown hair and a familiar pair of green eyes popped into my obscure line of vision.

"Mark's gone to his-" his smoky voice filtered through my ears followed by the subsequent shattering of glass.

It was another trigger, and for the second time in a row, I was sucked back into the destructive spiral, falling apart again.

Hey Babes! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year in advance! Now where do I start? I literally cannot believe that we've come so far this year, when I started this book I had no vision, no ideas and no expectations but right now we're past 17K and I am so so grateful for all of you beautiful souls, because only you guys made it all happen.

Thoughts on the chapter?

I know I said the new update would be sooner, but it didn't happen so I apologise. I haven't been in the best mental state lately, just been really depressed and feeling down. There's a lot of huge life changes happening right now and it's been really stressful, paired with my falling mental health and yeah whatever, I'm sorry if it sounds like an excuse. I hope this chapter made up for it, almost like a Christmas gift but far from it because it didn't have the holiday cheer, like at all.

The next chapter will be quite longer and I do have almost half of it written so I'm quite proud of myself.

I'm sorry this chapter was so dark, I just think it was necessary. The majority of it has been written during random bursts of energy at 2am due to a caffeine overdose and lack of time.

Also, I've decided I'm doing a future chapter in Kiara's POV however it may take a few more chapters in between. I have a specific present moment that I want her POV to succeed. I just need to get into the zone to write that, because it will be really depressing so I don't downplay her emotions and yeah I'm just rambling at this point.

How was everyone's holiday season? What did you do for Christmas? Or if you don't celebrate, how was your day, was it as amazing as you? Did you murder an elf or something?

Question: Who's one underrated musical artist that you feel deserves more attention? I think a lot of you might already know my answer.

I hope you're all staying safe and thriving like the beautiful people you are! I love you.

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