• Shattered & Unspoken
    Written by Nika Woodford




    I lay on the bed, bound by chains. I'm too cold to care anymore. My eyes are reflected in the only other object in the room; a mirror surrounding the walls that contained me. My waist-length hair was spread out below me, some strands trailing off to the side, and my face was soaked in tears. I wanted to go back, back to the past where my terrifying memories dominated every ounce of my being. Was it so bad to want to be perfect? To change myself until I could fit into his life? I wanted to be the one he could tell everything to, the one who he knew would stay there for him no matter what.

    A small bell resounded throughout the room, and the chains flew away from my hands and legs. Standing, I grab a paint brush from outside my prison, and walk towards the glass room ahead, the one that houses all of my dreams and memories. Halfway there, I'm starting to see him again, deluding myself into believing he's standing there in that almost invisible room... but oh! He really is there! I can feel the warmth spread from a small place in my stomach all the way out to my fingertips, where I clasp the brush ever so gently. Is it time? Will he finally awaken from his madness?

    I can feel it.
    The energy.

    My fingers twirl about, decorating the glass with a thousand different visions, from a crimson bright of the rising sun, to the dark violet of the Black Moon. I can feel my body moving in extraordinarily complex patterns, absorbing this white light until I can barely breathe...My eyes start swimming in scarlet tears... and I'm burning. Burning for the stars, falling into a new world....

    This new world is both hideous and yet.... absolutely enrapturing. He stands before me, amid the insanity of the heavens, offering his hand. I can still feel small tears burrowing into my pores, reminding me of my wish not that long ago, and I want to speak the three words I ached to say to him, even though I knew they would never be true. This was my last chance, when we were among the saddening sky, and I couldn't save him or his sanity any other way. I took his hand, softly kissed his cheeks, and whispered what would release me from the world of the living.
    ".....I hate you."

    Three-hundred miles away, the boy who she cared so deeply about woke from his nightmare. That night, he found her breathe her last, next to a painting of a glass room filled with words.

    Those words told this story.