Читать книгу INCANDESCENCE - Nadia Rexler - Страница 1

A sharp pinch alerted me, I looked down, seeing blood slowly seep from one of my fingertips. Standing there, watching the blood bubble fill up before spilling over, I made no attempts to contain it. It felt satisfying, relieving, like a small amount of pressure had been released from my body.

The bloodstream crept down my finger’s length and wrapped around my hand to my forearm. The cut released the last of my composure, which had been fading away for months. Anger and broken pieces of my soul was all I could feel, my image tarnished a long time ago. All the secrets, the pain, memories hiding in the back of my mind I'd convinced myself rose water washed away- I started to drown in them.

The once white flowers were now decorated with drops of the red liquid which made a winding river down the petals, branching like veins traveling to the stem. Beautiful, like a modern poster for the Shakespearean tragedy called my life. I picked up one of them, spreading my blood over the petals before plucking one, then another and another, tightening my grip on the stem and letting the thorns pierce my skin, causing more blood to drip on the rest.

Intense anger matched the growing relief the pain created, leaving me wanting more. Picking up a handful of the flowers in one hand, I ripped the flower heads off with the other, continuing not to care about the thorns scraping across my palm and sinking into my skin.

After they were all destroyed, I picked up my mother's vase and threw it across the room, watching it shatter against the wall. Grabbing the vase closest to me I repeated the same action with the flowers, slamming the vase on the ground. As I grabbed the third- I heard a knock at my door, ignoring it, I kicked off my shoes and smashed the vase on my desk.

Glass shards were flying everywhere, the small pieces stuck to my face, arms, and feet. My body was heating up like I was literally letting off steam. Stripping off my blazer I continued my rampage, moving faster, ripping, smashing and screaming.

When there were no more flowers, useless office decorations became victims. Things off the walls, my degree, awards, pictures, papers, books, my computer, nothing was spared. Out of breath, I stood at the edge of the trashed room, skin covered in sweat and blood, and let out a weary sob.