I didn't know where to put this so I hope this is the right place. I was getting some writers block on my romantic fiction story so I decided to just let my brain flow and type what came to mind. It took a sharp turn from romance to ... what ever shall you call this piece. I greatly appreciate reviews, and yes points are given to any and all review givers
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She slowly walked up the blue, carpeted steps. This had always been her favorite staircase in the entire house. It curved round and round. When she got to the top she looked and smiled. This would the last time she would make the trip up those stairs and she waited to remember it forever.
When she was sixteen years old her father had pushed her to publish her own music, and it worked. She went straight to the top, but she was losing sight of who she was. All the money and fame disfigured her eyesight. Gave her blurred vision, when before she saw perfectly clear.
She felt the cool, solid feel of the lavender painted walls as she brushed along side of them on her way to the bathroom. This was the last time she would touch their stillness. This was the last time she would smell the claustrophobic air surrounding them.
Rounding the corner, she put her hand on the glass door knob. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before stepping into a spotless bathroom. Painted pastel pink, it made her want to vomit. Her father had wanted to paint it this color. It was always want her father wanted, but there were things he just couldn’t decide. This was her time to shine. Her time to make her own decisions.
She slowly, softly closed the pale white door behind like a mouse sneaking cheese from a cat; she had to be careful that no one heard her. This was her secret mission. No one could know until the undoable was done.
The water was hot and piercing as she lifted her legs into the tub full of water. Dunking her head under, she wondered how long it would take to drowned herself. How long it would take to die, and how long would it take for her free-spirited soul to detach from her destroyed body.
Coming back up for air, she looked at the clock. Only three minutes had past. she couldn't go that way. It took too long; someone would find her in the nick of time and save her. It would be just her kind of luck.
She grabbed the blade off of the shelf on the tiled shower wall. It was slick and slender. Silent, but deadly. It was... perfect.
It ran smoothly across her arm for around five minutes. Finally she gained enough courage to put enough pressure down that it gashed through. She let out a scream deafening to ears. A scream that shattered glass. A blood-curdling, gut wrenching scream.
Watching as the water turned a vast wine color, she did it again. And again. No longer would she have to be perfect. No longer would she have to be daddy's little girl. No longer would she have to look through smudged looking glass.
She could finally see the world for what it was: ghastly horrifying.
