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Vote and Comment please xx
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Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice
From what I’ve tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favour fire
But if I had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
Is also great
And would suffice
~ Fire and Ice – Robert Frost ~
– Might have some triggers –
~ Pain ~
The walk home should have been pure agony, however, I had been through the same routine countless times that the pain and the route home had been ingrained into my brain – now it’s something of a habit, which made the pain easier to forget.
I slowly walked up to my room once I had gotten home – it was easy as the rest of my family had left already anyway. I lay myself down on my bed and let my breath ease back to normal.
A perk of having magick is that I can easily heal myself – while each caster has their own way of manifesting their magick, using ice was not really a choice for me, hence the bowls of water in my room.
With little concentration, I lifted the water from the bowls and created a few puddles in the air – one for each main area of pain. I lowered the puddles onto my stomach, head and legs and froze them over. Slowly, I could feel the ice moving through my body and healing the injuries as if it knew exactly where I had been hurt.
I sunk back down into my hard bed, enjoying the cold feel of the ice moving through my body. Soon, after I felt that everything had been healed, the chill pulled out of my body and moved through my body and then evaporate into the air, chilling my room even further.
I slowly moved my body, getting up slowly and then walking to my bathroom to have a shower. When in the bathroom, I stopped in front of the mirror to look at the monster that looked back at me.
It was easy to see why the Jock Pack bullied me – I was disgusting. There was no meat on my body – it was never that I thought I was fat, I could just never make myself eat more than a meal a day on some days. Food tasted like nails down my throat. Never having enough to eat had taken a toll on the rest of my body, leaving my hair to hang dead around my face. My hair, that is another reason that I hated myself. My hair can only be described as snow – sometimes I even think that it’s whiter than snow. It fell limply down on my head, never growing any longer than my ears.
That’s why it was easy to walk around with my hood up and my head down – my snow white hair acted like a beacon for disgusted looks, looks I couldn’t take any more of. Why would I want to see in the face of other people more of what I see in the face of my parents? More of what I see in my own face.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
I just want this pain to end.
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