Pink Angel

A Story by Ksummera

Her mind was strong but slowly it weakened. Each jab, each smirk, like a blow to her head. She would sit there and wait. Criss-crossed on her beds her spine would curve. The girl who was seen through her window always looking down. They wondered what she was looking at, what held her eyes so steady. But they never knew. They never knew in the silence of her room she would stare at the veins crisscrossing over her wrists. They never knew she would watch the pulse ticking below the skin until her eyes closed to allow water to escape. They never knew. She was all alone in her small room. Coldness blanketing her like an old friend. Then one day she was gone. They never knew where she went. They never knew she bought an old wedding gown at a thrift store, that she drove back home. They never knew the temperature the water once was, only that it was cold after. They never knew she bite her lip so hard it caused the small droplet of blood by the sink. They never found the hair she had cut off, or the dye she used to color it. They never knew. She was the pink angel with no hair floating atop the water. They never knew how she did it, how she made the cuts as deep as she did. But they do remember the piercing scream heard that day. The scream that causes the crows to take flight and the rabbits to hide. They remember the small sister racing out her door screaming for help, her clothes dyed a shade of pink. They don't remember ever seeing a parent entering or leaving. They don't remember that door ever opening until then. Until the pink little girl fell to her knees outside. Already the memory is fading, the girls window closed. A week past by before they stop wondering what they never knew. A week past by before the house is empty, and their questions flown away. A week past by before the girl from the window is just that �" the girl from the window.