Hands smacked against my back, striking red-hot where my scars had barely healed. I could feel the blood running down in little streams, down my legs, forming a grotesque puddle below.
The man behind me moaned and dropped me on the floor. I didn't even remember his face. The gravel on the ground, dug into my back, embedding themselves deep inside.
He threw money at my feet; a measly amount, barely enough to feed my family for a day. I gazed at the brick wall in front of me, its surface worn by constant use.
I couldn't do this anymore. It was too much.
I was a mere shell of myself. What was the point of existence if I had to sell my body? My muscles had wasted away, my belly had become hollow from starvation. Who was I?
In a daze, I got up and left the dingy alley that always appeared in my worst nightmares. I could feel people staring at my back, the scars, the pain written in them, but no one helped.
They never did.
Dropping the money next to my mom on the ground where she laid, I observed her sickly-red lipstick and the black substance gathering at the corner of her lips. My love for her had shrivelled and turned bitter.
I walked away from her, heading towards the bridge, my happy place.
But that didn't offer much happiness anymore either.
I climbed over the bridge and stood at the edge, gazing down into the water. Heavy grey waves crashed into the stones below, making me smile.
I had tried to be as resilient as the stones, but I had failed. My tears had dried up, my pain had numbed; I spent my days wide-eyed and uncaring.
I stepped closer towards the edge and jumped off, the water rushing up to meet me.
I had always wanted to know what flying felt like.
Ultimate Gift of All
She stood there, gazing down at the streets. Just one step and she would be gone. A gift turned into a nightmare.
Was it really a gift?
Life had been a gift turned into a nightmare since she was born and she could end it. Just like that, she would lose the ultimate gift of all.
She stared down at the Christmas decorations and all the people bustling about. Just once she wanted to enjoy the gift of life.
She saw a child's face full of happiness as he got a present.
A tear, the first one she had shed today, slowly dropped down her cheek wishing that she was there instead of the child.
Why had she been put on Earth to suffer through this torture?
She thought about her life and all her emotions. Never once had she looked up at the blue sky and thought about how happy she was.
She looked down once more at the ground that could claim her life if she wanted it to.
Slowly, she stepped away from the edge. She turned around and ran until everything became numb and she couldn't think anymore.
Her life had been a blessing, she just needed to struggle more than others to truly be thankful about it.
That day, among the Christmas lights, she made a promise to herself to learn to be truly happy and to accept her gift.
It has been days and days.
Nothing has changed.
Everything's the same here although I'm sure outside life is going on normally.
Here I was, a prisoner in a grimy old cell.
I sighed and stood up, as if on cue, the food slot opened and stale bread was pushed through. "Eat it up!", a harsh voice accompanied it. Used to this, I accepted the food with a resigned glance.
I sat down and started chewing on the stale bread to make it soft enough to swallow. While I stared at the wall, I noticed something different. At one place, the wall was caved in a bit, curious, I got up. Using my expert fingers, I lightly skimmed over the wall.
I was right. The wall has the city on the other side judging by the draughts entering from the millions of the tiny gaps in the wall.
For the first time, I had hope for freedom. I could finally esc- I stopped, not believing it was true. I had become so used to this dull, orderly life that I forgot my real teenage one.
I missed my fourteenth birthday These scoundrels had captured me a day before my birthday. I tried everything a skilled warrior could do and believe me, I knew all of them. After all, my dad was the best in America at his fighting skills.
Here I was, his daughter, taking his skills at the age of thirteen. Somehow, the people who captured me were more advanced than anything I had seen before. They threw me in this cell and here I lived for god knows how many days.
All my technology, including my phone, was shut down as soon as I entered the building, right now they are useless.
I couldn't even go on Instagram, for god's sake!
Now, how can I escape through this wall?
Mentally, I made a plan. I'll be ready at midnight and I'll kick down the wall, judging by its state, one kick and it will be down. After that, I'll hail an Uber or taxi, whatever I see first and go home.
I sat back down and started to devour my stale bread which was heaven to my half-starved stomach. I had hope, I could get out. My mind was flooded with pictures of my family, best friends, boyfriend...
Deciding to go to sleep early, I ate the bread and went straight to my bed and nestled into the moth-eaten sheets.
My eyes snapped open. Somehow, in my mind, I knew it was time for action. I got up and sneaked over to the tiny barred window, sure enough, it was pitch black like I expected it to be.
I smiled and grabbed the few possessions I had in my cell. My boots, jacket and my useless books and pieces of technology. Wearing, the boots I concentrated on the wall. Everything disappeared except the wall, I could see inside the wall, see its weak points. Finding the weakest one, I gave a huge kick. The wall came crumbling down.
For a second, I tensed afraid that someone would burst through the prison door but nothing happened.
I realized with a start that I was hearing beeps and car horns while the air smelled like how New York's air usually would smell like; full of different perfumes and a slight tang to it.
Could I possibly be...free?
I walked out slowly. There were cars even some people at different spots although not too many as it was midnight.
"Hey!", I shouted excitedly. I frowned. No one looked at me as if... they didn't see me.
No, Stacy magic is not real, isn't it?
I took a step forward when something out of this world happened.
It felt like I went through ice and then my body turned itself inside out. Stumbling forward, I managed to catch my balance. Walking over to one of the stores, I entered.
"Excuse me but do you know from where I can catch a taxi from?", I asked the store-manager sweetly.
Well, as sweet as you can look with matted hair, ripped clothes and a school bag dangling from my shoulder.
He looked at me suspiciously before saying, "Just go around the corner, you can catch one there."
Smiling at him, I went around the corner, sure enough, there was a taxi.
Getting in, I smiled and said, "21 Hepburn Road."
I ignored the thought about no money.
The taxi driver seemed like a nice guy and he just smiled before setting off.
Suddenly he broke the quiet and said, "You know you look like that girl that went missing, right?
I laughed good-naturedly before asking, "What was her name?
He replied, "Stacy Donwell. She was a huge mystery back in 2014. Her dad did everything to find her but she just vanished."
What? Is he joking? That's my name? It is 2014 anyway, right?
I smiled at the guy before going back to my thoughts.
While he drove, we passed by a billboard that said 'Released this summer 2017'
How long was I in the cell? Three years? Who were those people who kidnapped me?
I sighed knowing that I may have escaped physically but my mind will stay captive by this until I get answers.
Am I really free at all?
My tears aren't one color, they are an array of color
Shimmering like rainbows, they fall onto my cheeks
Tinted blood-red when I'm angry
Tinted light blue when I'm calm
Tinted yellow when I'm happy
Tinted dark blue when I'm sad
Don't you see?
Tears are all iridescent
Yet, they have beautiful tints
Which makes each one very unique
Everyone's skin is flawless.
It isn't marred by anything except discoloration and acne.
Yet, those horrible things are there. Unseen but not gone.
They are known as scars.
Each one of them has a story behind them.
Some of them have torturous memories, that haunt your dreams.
Yet, some of them are memories that you laugh at when you grow up.
All unseen scars are beautiful.
They exist with whole stories behind them.
Stories that can be heart-wrenchingly beautiful.
That's why I call them beautiful scars.
They deserve being listened to.
Life is like
Life is like a roller-coaster.
It has it's good and bad moments with some bland moments.
It has those normal everyday moments when the roller-coaster has just gotten started.
You just become impatient and wait for the good parts to come, missing out on the bland parts that shape your personality.
Then the euphoria starts builds as you go higher and higher.
You are reaching one of the best moments on the roller-coaster and you are ecstatic.
Life seems beautiful and perfect. Everything seems amazing, even the cranky old lady next door.
Then, the roller-coaster plungs down. It goes down and down into the darkest parts of your life.
You can't help but scream or cry, wishing for the agony to just stop.
Yet, it doesn't- not that easily anyway.
Slowly, the roller-coaster stops making you sigh in relief and think, Whew, I'm never doing that again.
Yet, you come back again to enjoy the torturous yet beautiful ride.