Work Text:
It felt like drowning.
Suffocating as her soul descended into the black, foggy mist of the afterlife. Completely submerged in the cool blue water. Glittery specks of sand drifted lazily around the grim strands of her dark stygian-colored hair.
She would never forget the day she died.
She had remembered walking calmly through the sullenly haunted halls to the girls’ bathroom, her emotions, bubbling up inside her like a burning love potion. She walked slowly—as fast as she dared. The tears had already started to drip down her face, off her cheeks and puddle onto her collarbones. Her fingernails, painted black and sharpened to a point, dug into her palms.
She ran toward the tiniest stall she could come across—they were all the same size, of course, but this one always seemed particularly microscopic to her.
She seized her gray-rimmed glasses off her face, broke them in two rough and jagged pieces and cast them as hard as she could into the toilet water. She hated them, detested them. She never wanted to wear them again . . . Never wanted to touch them again. Never wanted to see them in her ugly reflection again. She had been crying—no, this was sobbing. Her face, swallowed up by sadness and anger.
She could kill someone.
Just one.
One very deeply despised someone.
She was a birch tree, branches all curled up to herself. Leaves, withering and roots, planted in cynicism. She was a charcoal drawing, everything she touched turned black and death cowered in her wake. She was an ocean of tears, grief slept in her bed and revenge soothed her anxious mind.
Revenge was the only way, the only way, the only way—
The soft-spoken girl with nothing but destructive thoughts and the name Four Eyes for a title died repeating the mantra to herself until her mouth no longer moved and her brain no longer functioned. And so she fell with a splash and was submerged into a sea full of ghosts.
She would never forget the day she died.