It Lives Within

Not every monster you fear is unknown. Some are more familiar than everything you hold close. Meet Azalea Hazel, the complete opposite of a girl with whom you feel like something weird would happen. An ordinary high school student with a ordinary circle of acquaintances, see how the world seems to mutate around her incorporating anything and everything sinister. Who is the victim? The journey of an ordinary girl in the midst of an fantastic reality, and her struggle to get out of the clutches of surrealism that binds her. Excerpt: It has been two days and my hands are still shivering; blue veins racing through the papery white folds in the pink skin, blurred, of the cold seeping into the marrow and spreading out seismic waves through the whole of me. My vision is foggy, just the same that has been for years, maybe decades, who knows. And it might be this, or the cold- I wouldn't know- that everything seems blurred to my eyesight. Only one picture on the mantle piece is devoid of the haze that has settled on my lens, or it could be because my mind has memorised it so good that I no longer need to look at it. Or is it simply because the picture itself is of a foggy morning, the evening I remember so clearly that even the smudged lines of the lamp post and the invisible mold of the bus is easily discernible?

Soumi_Sarkar_2612 · Fantasy

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41 Chs

Chapter 10

My cheek still stings, and my ears ring with the sound of her hands on my face, but it's not enough to drain the taunting remarks she makes when I enter the hall.

"Well, well, look who's here! Seems like little birdie got thrown out of her aunt's house too. Such a shame. Even they got tired of your silly complaints after just one day. See, I told you to get out of your dream boat, sweetheart. You cannot escape reality forever."

I turn my downcast eyes towards father, whose glasses reflect his phone screen. These glasses have always been a source of fascination for me. The way they hid a world where his mind and heart seemed to reside, and the way they sometimes reflected a distorted image of that world; those glasses have told me everything that I know about my father. He sits there in silence and, for the first time, seems to be eating his words. I wonder which mental asylum this man went to looking for a bride. I've been trying to visualise their marriage for a while and I concluded that he married my mother only after she poisoned all the other eligible choices. I wonder if she ever revealed her big teeth and red eyes in front of him.

"...and perhaps, then you'll know how lucky you are to have me as your mother. No other mother would allow their children to run amok like you did yesterday. You do realise that your father works so hard to make the ends meet and you're there, ruining your chances at an education you could never have afforded if it weren't for us, if we hadn't taken you in..."

I was pretending not to hear her reproach, so was my father. But she always had a way with her words, she always knew how to get what she wanted. She wants us to respond, and we do.

Father takes hold of her hand and jerks her back, whispering things that sounds like the buzzing of bees during summer. Sounds escape me, and I hear a vaccum pressing on my eardrums, forcing my head into a pulp. I want to run, I want to hide. But there's no escape, Mother is right. I cannot escape reality forever. That forever ends today.

I leave the hall and plug in my laptop, I need to talk to Grace.

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