Darkest Star / Lilian
My name meant nothing to you. I know that, I know that perfectly. Well, maybe Depeche Mode's 'Lilian', but nothing else. Maybe, that creepy goth girl you saw the other day, glaring at you, nothing else. You're just an empty paged notebook waiting to be filled with my life. I know that. I just don't know why I'm I doing this. It's not like it'll draw the end of the world nearer by writing in my gothic style. No, I don't know. I guess a bit of girlyness is left in me. But no, I won't go around moaning how much I loved Zack, his grey eyes and not to mention anything else. But hell, love is a drug. No, I never tried drugs. Love's a drug. Addicting, yet you can live without it. But once you try it or you feel addiction, you just can't let go. I'm not just talking about my love to Zack. I was one of the many to him. It wasn't like he shared his first kiss with me, like he told those three words just to me. Hell, I remember the words, which he left me with.
"You're a goth." He said glaring at me, as another one of his fans, was waiting for the ideal moment. I knew, that he hated people, which could be labelled. I knew that. But I didn't care, I didn't care, that my hair was straight and black. I didn't care, that the only colour I felt like wearing was black. It was neutral. Like my existence was. A low echo of what I felt to him yelled at me to do something, but I just stood there. I just wasn't able to smile. I wasn't able to laugh. As if I went numb. Zack began to call me, but I couldn't react, I just leaned against the desk. Everything was spinning.
I knew, I really did know. But somehow I always believed that they were dead. The dates on those graves I found were possible. The photos were alike, I wanted to believe, I lied to myself, because I didn't have the guts to ask. Yes, I always loved Johny and Mary. I always will, but I'm not blood related to them. They adopted me, because they would never have kids. Mine? Mine were too young, to have, but had. They didn't feel like killing me before I was born. They chose to kill me slowly, painfully.
They stared at me. They were thirty. I was born, when they were my age. I know that, I found it out later. A bit too late. Everything in them was like two separate me only one in the opposite gender, that's all. The female, which I could have called Mom, stared at me in shock, ignoring her husband's glare. I switched my gaze into the same coloured eyes I had. Pitch black eyes. Just like mine. Filled with annoyance, desire to erase me. Only then I noticed the small boy look curiously at me.
"Dad, who is she?" He asked looking at me with his mother's haze eyes. My brother held the same hair colour, he looked identically like his mother, yet I was a mix. An unwanted mix and I knew that.
"No one." His voice crooked, as he pulled my blood related family into the direction they were heading to. He pushed me slightly, but it was nothing compared to my fragile self breaking apart. Of course, who'd want a child in their fifteens?