Post by misa on Dec 1, 2007 20:43:45 GMT
After her enlightening walk in the gardens, and seeing the world with new eyes, Misa skipped dinner and headed up to her dormitory which would most likely be empty. Her assumption was correct and she carefully pulled in the stone around the base and sides of the door to prevent any intrusion.
After a few seconds of searching she located a full length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door.
Misa stood in front of it for several moments almost daring herself to look her reflection in the eyes. Finally she stopped wondering whether or not her shoes were too scruffy to be worn anymore and she looked herself in the eyes she hadn't truly seen for so many years.
Electric Blue. Like the eyes of a porcelain doll, her long eye lashes framing them well. But what on earth did it mean? She would need some help with that...perhaps the library had a book on it. She'd been itching for an excuse to go there, to hold a book in her hands and relish the knowledge that she had time to read it, since her arrival.
It was one of the oddest things. During the time she was held against her will by Them, she had imagined the library; each and every book spine; the smell; the shelves; the floorboards; everything. It had kept her sane. It proved how mad her thoughts had become towards the end, one of the last times her tormentor had returned she remembered thinking, if you go mad you will never read any of those books. It was quite possibly one of the things which had saved her.
Misa smiled at her reflection and it looked...odd. Unnatural. She needed practice at that at any rate. She felt like an utter idiot smiling at herself but she forced the expression the remain on her face as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In a shaky movement she moved one hand to the top button of her jacket and slowly undid the buttons. The heavy material slide of her arms, leaving her neck and arms bare.
"One. Two. Three..." She whispered hoarsely and Misa opened her eyes to the reflection of something she hadn't seen in a mirror ever. She gasped and the smile fell from her face. The scars were more hideous than she had ever imagined. It was ludicrous that she had never looked at them properly before, but there was a lot you could purposefully miss whenever you got dressed and undressed before and after the sun was risen or set.
She slowly traced the long angry red line which never faded from the inside of her wrist, up her arm and to the point where it connected with the matching mark around her throat. The raw skin felt strangely cooler than the rest of her skin and tears came to her eyes as she knew her plan to be impossible. She could never walk around with any of that showing. If it was this painful looking at it herself...the eyes of others upon the atrocious scars may actually kill her.
It just wasn't...fair. Nothing that happened to her had ever been fair. How was it one could find so little in their life they were thankful for. Her tears began to fall down her cheeks, and she sobbed bitterly, shaking with anger. It. Just. Wasn't. Fair.
Suddenly she felt like screaming and that was just what she did. In a blind rage she saw the mirror and without a second glance she kicked it viciously and her reflection split, distorted and hideous just like her, before the pieces of the mirror fell from their framing.
Still in a rage she dropped to her knees and began to pick up the fragments, several cutting into her, lacerating her lower arms and hands. She barely noticed – what did a few more cuts and scars matter?
Clutching the pieces in her hands she stopped. What was the point? She slumped back on her heels and as the waves of misery washed over her, Misa almost laughed. Almost.
Because, it really didn't matter. Seven years bad luck? She'd already served more than that doubled, another seven would hardly kill her, if she even lasted that long...
Gradually she fell back against the now empty door of the wardrobe, surrounded by shards of glass and Misa fell asleep. The shards of glass she'd been holding so tightly slipped from her now lax grip. Blood dripped lightly onto the floor, droplets splattering up onto the fractured pieces as Misa went to a world which, just as this one, she was slowly beginning to lose control over.
After a few seconds of searching she located a full length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door.
Misa stood in front of it for several moments almost daring herself to look her reflection in the eyes. Finally she stopped wondering whether or not her shoes were too scruffy to be worn anymore and she looked herself in the eyes she hadn't truly seen for so many years.
Electric Blue. Like the eyes of a porcelain doll, her long eye lashes framing them well. But what on earth did it mean? She would need some help with that...perhaps the library had a book on it. She'd been itching for an excuse to go there, to hold a book in her hands and relish the knowledge that she had time to read it, since her arrival.
It was one of the oddest things. During the time she was held against her will by Them, she had imagined the library; each and every book spine; the smell; the shelves; the floorboards; everything. It had kept her sane. It proved how mad her thoughts had become towards the end, one of the last times her tormentor had returned she remembered thinking, if you go mad you will never read any of those books. It was quite possibly one of the things which had saved her.
Misa smiled at her reflection and it looked...odd. Unnatural. She needed practice at that at any rate. She felt like an utter idiot smiling at herself but she forced the expression the remain on her face as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In a shaky movement she moved one hand to the top button of her jacket and slowly undid the buttons. The heavy material slide of her arms, leaving her neck and arms bare.
"One. Two. Three..." She whispered hoarsely and Misa opened her eyes to the reflection of something she hadn't seen in a mirror ever. She gasped and the smile fell from her face. The scars were more hideous than she had ever imagined. It was ludicrous that she had never looked at them properly before, but there was a lot you could purposefully miss whenever you got dressed and undressed before and after the sun was risen or set.
She slowly traced the long angry red line which never faded from the inside of her wrist, up her arm and to the point where it connected with the matching mark around her throat. The raw skin felt strangely cooler than the rest of her skin and tears came to her eyes as she knew her plan to be impossible. She could never walk around with any of that showing. If it was this painful looking at it herself...the eyes of others upon the atrocious scars may actually kill her.
It just wasn't...fair. Nothing that happened to her had ever been fair. How was it one could find so little in their life they were thankful for. Her tears began to fall down her cheeks, and she sobbed bitterly, shaking with anger. It. Just. Wasn't. Fair.
Suddenly she felt like screaming and that was just what she did. In a blind rage she saw the mirror and without a second glance she kicked it viciously and her reflection split, distorted and hideous just like her, before the pieces of the mirror fell from their framing.
Still in a rage she dropped to her knees and began to pick up the fragments, several cutting into her, lacerating her lower arms and hands. She barely noticed – what did a few more cuts and scars matter?
Clutching the pieces in her hands she stopped. What was the point? She slumped back on her heels and as the waves of misery washed over her, Misa almost laughed. Almost.
Because, it really didn't matter. Seven years bad luck? She'd already served more than that doubled, another seven would hardly kill her, if she even lasted that long...
Gradually she fell back against the now empty door of the wardrobe, surrounded by shards of glass and Misa fell asleep. The shards of glass she'd been holding so tightly slipped from her now lax grip. Blood dripped lightly onto the floor, droplets splattering up onto the fractured pieces as Misa went to a world which, just as this one, she was slowly beginning to lose control over.