Okay guys, to clarify, I'll write the background in the near future, 'kay? x3
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You're nameless. You have no place here.
As my hand gently brushes aside the red satin curtain, I imagine it's a sheet of blood that I'm lifting to its golden painted holder. The moonlight reflects off of the scarlet fabric, holding my gaze momentarily before I allow it to slip through my fingers. Like my life; I'm letting it slip away.
What life? You hate it here. The life you have is miserable.
Where had that thought come from? Certainly it must have rode the wind through my window. My fingers still feel the pressure of pulling the heavy glass-filled frame up to reveal the night air.
That thought was correct, however. I had given this town too many chances, each wasted away as though it had never been offered. The way I am living now is something I simply can't continue. Far from bearable. My solution is outside the window, now. Far from where I stand.
This is your last chance.
My decision was difficult, but rather than taking the easy way out, I'm straying from the ever-so-popular resolve of death. I'm giving life another chance, away from here. Turning my back on the window, I drop to my knees and reach far beneath my bed until my fingertips meet the rough material of my backpack. They curl around a strap, pulling it out from hiding. For months, it had been hidden.
It's the only piece of home you'll have left.
If I can call this place a home. The familiar warm, sweet scents of various flowers reach me, sending a wave of nostalgia through my core. It makes my heart ache, and very nearly makes me want to stay. With my backpack hanging over one shoulder, I slip one leg through the windowsill, then the other, allowing the warm, soft, floral air to engulf them.
I twist my body so that my lungs are crushed by the windowsill as my legs act as deadweights, dangling. Gripping the edge, I ease myself down further until I drop abrubtly, fingers still holding me up, only just. After a moment I let myself drop, the wooden porch rattling as I land. As I lope tdown the steps to the grass, my eyes turn to the cloudy sky. As though on cue, a drop of water touches my nose, followed by a sprinkling that soon erupts into a downpour.
When you're gone, you'll leave the rain behind.
In a matter of seconds, I'm soaked through. I'm grateful for the rain, however; it placed a metaphor in my mind, as well as a sense of peace. My nerves were soothed by the water, and I was awakened, ready. Often I would come out here to meditate in the rain, so I associated serenity with the falling water against my skin. The grass was rough and wet beneath my feet. I began to run.
This isn't home.
Here, I'm nobody. Just a shadow, a puppet for their purposes. Worthless.
I'm nameless.
You have no place here.
