broken shards [trigger warning]

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BANG!

The noise broke the monotony in the three-storey home. But it wasn't home. It never was.

She sagged against the door. Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks. Her body trembled like a leaf in a raging storm as she shook, at least until her legs gave way. Until she was curled up on the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest. Her wails echoed, punctuating the silence, a rough melancholic note filling the air. Asking to be heard. Begging to be stopped.

But no one heard her scream. No one could care for the girl in tears.

It went on for hours, until the darkness peeked in through the blinds. She stayed on the cold floor. Still in tears. Still alone.

Not for long.

The series of knocks sent her scrambling upright, rubbing her eyes until they hurt. Smoothing out her skirt. Raking her hand through her dip-dyed hair. Making herself look presentable - ways to make her look strong, even if all it did was showing how much she was weak.

"Kim?" The call was soft. Cautious. It was something she hadn't heard in quite a while. She stared at the door as if waiting for something extraordinary. As if she was willing it to explode.

"Kim," the voice repeated, stronger now. Sharper. "Open the door now."

She did as she was told, her lips in a thin line as the door creaked open to reveal a woman she resembled greatly. They were almost the same height, give or take a few inches. The same build. Same shade of brown hair. The same hue of blue-green eyes although her own pair was ringed with red, many lines of red.

"What happened to you?" came the woman's question, half in irritation and half in shock.

She scoffed. "Why do you suddenly care?"

Silence.

"How dare you talk to me like that, young lady! Especially now that... that - do you know who gave me a call this afternoon? Do you? It was the principal. For God's sake, Kim! How many times do you have to pull these kinds of stunts?"

She suppressed a cringe, putting on her most nonchalant front. The woman saw through it though, she could tell that much from the way her full lips twisted into a scowl, from the way her voice took a sharp edge. As if she was using words as swords, driving them deep into the fragile shield she put between them.

"What were you thinking?! Fighting and hitting someone your age! I didn't raise you to have that kind of attitude and - "

"That's right," she cut her off quietly. Icily. Her fists shook as she stared her down. "You didn't raise me at all."

She only had a split-second's warning before pain flashed from her flushed cheek.

The woman's hand was still raised in warning, ready to do it again. She gritted her teeth and wrenched her gaze towards her. Daring her to repeat it. Knowing full well that it didn't feel like her cheek being hit. That instead, it felt like her heart had taken the blow.

They stayed like that for a while, a staring showdown between mother and daughter, until the older woman let her arm drop limp at her side. Her gaze softened for a moment before she turned on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her, leaving the girl staring on.

That's right, she thought. Run away like you always do.

She moved towards the dresser in the corner of the room. Through the dimming light she could see a mess of a girl staring back at her. She could see her tangled brown hair, her swollen eyes, the dried tear trails down her face. Her favorite shirt was in creases and upon closer look, the end of the long sleeve was stained with black. She could see it clearly, how it seemed an inch or two shorter than her other sleeve, how the loose threads were burned off.

She still didn't know how it happened.

Perhaps she did, but she didn't believe it. She could only tell you how it ended. A blaze of fire towering above her. Hungry pillars of flame licking everything it touched. The face of a girl torn between terror and anger, revenge in her eyes. She remembered only flashes as everything was in a blur, too quick for her to understand. It left a lot of room of uncertainty, of questions she had no way to answer. The only thing she was sure of was that there was chaos, and that she had caused it. This messed-up girl glaring her down in the mirror - she had the ability to play with fire.

Then suddenly she was in pieces, jagged lines running across the mirror's surface. She pulled her fist back. She stared at the web of cracks, watching the irregularly-shaped pieces fall towards the dresser. She could still hear the glass shatter in her ears as she planted her palms firmly on the table, ignoring how the little shards pierced her skin, how one of her hands felt broken as the red liquid leaked out from her knuckles.

"What happened to you?" her mother's voice resounded in her head.

She looked at her broken reflection and the answer came readily to her lips. I don't know.

She could feel it all. The anger... The resentment... The fire... What had she turned into?

Her eyes flickered to the fallen pieces of glass. She took note of simple things - how they looked so sharp under the semi-darkness. How they twinkled temptingly at her. How they would feel against the skin of her wrist...

What had she become?

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951 words