sprinkled evil fairydust

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It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. I didn't want to believe. I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen.

"..."

How could she?

"No mama please... MAMA NO!"

SLAP!

"MAMA! PLEASE DON'T!"

Didn't she see?

"This is... This is SICK!" she screamed as page by page she ripped the album apart. Into the flames of the fireplace they went. Page by page, memory by memory, completely destroyed.

How important they were to me?

No. She didn't see or care enough to try to. This is all because of her. But if asked, she would claim no recollection. To her I'm a rotten child that has been given too much attention. Failing to see the truth as it sits bluntly in front of her face.

I'm completely damaged beyond repair and she doesn't see me. The only me she sees is the shadow of the girl I used to be. Before when I used to be the ideal princess and my fairytale was rainbow colored.

I was so naïve. I actually believed in shining knights coming to somehow save me. Not that I needed saving back then. Back when I was thirteen and free.

Time has a way of changing things. Now that I'm no longer thirteen I can see. I can see how people lie and deceive. This world is covered in hue of darkest black yet no one sees.

I see no purpose. I see no point. Why should I have to get through today, when tomorrow's going to be the same?

I am told this is a phrase. A perfectly normal stage in the life of an adolescent teen such as me. But I am fifteen and I can clearly see. No longer blinded by the pretty light mama puts in front of me.

I had finally figured out a way. A way to keep me clean. It was a way I could relinquish myself in me and still be the me she wanted to see. It is ironic. That now, because of her, I have start again when it is because of her I even began.

Staring at my watch, it reads 5:30AM. I should be in bed, yet somehow here I am. In my old blue jeans by the pond - under a tree – off Hetherington Road. My secret hiding place. My private sanctuary to do what I please.

My lips are horribly dry from the cold wind blowing against them. So dry they hurt. They break as I try to add moisture by running my tongue over them. A failed attempt of course. My tongue is drier then my lips.

Despite the coldness, I can't help but laugh. The weatherman had predicated sunshine of course. A clear morning sky or so he said. Instead dark clouds fill the sky. But I suppose this is irony at its best. It seems god has provided me with the perfect setting to begin again.

So who am I to disagree?

Not that I can. No. I can't deny it. Not when I can feel it again. Running through my veins in a somewhat pleading patronizing sort of way. The itching... the need... now I can't breathe.

It's a good thing I brought my little friend with me. Hand in my pocket; I slowly pull it; my beautiful switchblade. In an instant three marks are made. Light enough to be alive yet deep enough to make me cry.

My bare feet wiggle in the mud as the blood flows free. To say it feels amazing would be an understatement. To say it would also be sickeningly twisted and pathetic.

A strong gust of wind blows making me shiver and making my body fall back. The wind wasn't that strong: I was just that weak. Stretching out, I lift my right arm over my face. My fingers lightly tracing over the newly created markings making me flinch on contact. As my fingers touch my now bumpy- whelped - skin, I feel the itch arise in me again.

With the blade in my left hand I gently trace the edge along my skin until I found the spot. The perfect spot right along side my wrist. Pushing it deeply and moving it in a straight line, the thin red liquid begins to slip through the wound.

Its looks so beautiful…

"Not again…"

The voice surprises me, but not completely. I don't even bothering moving my eyes to him. I merely continue fixated on my wound, my perfect relief. Still. I can't stand his eyes on me. They make me itch. A different type of itching this time and I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

"Go away Jared."

Despite my words he doesn't leave. I know because I can still feel his eyes on me. I let my arm fall and lay against my chest. My eyes now directly looking at him.

A hand in his pocket the other behind his neck as he stares down on me. The mask on his pretty face completely blank. But his eyes cannot hide what he sees when he looks at me. The ocean of blue and green look at me and see me. The actually me. Not the me that cries herself to sleep but the me who can smile and be glee.

Sigh...

Looking at him looking at me I begin to see why I'm in love with him.

Not in love in love. The love for him is special and unique. It can't compare or compete. It is a type of love that is blind and cannot see. A type of love I've had since I was three.

Holding out his hand to me, he has that cross between a smile and smirk. His voice is deep from obvious lack of sleep. "Come on." He says, his hand coming down to reach for me.

In silence, I put my hand in his. The simple touch sends warmth up my arm and slowly to my heart. I can feel his warmth now all over me. It makes me slightly flutter and flush. But as I stand, my eyes narrow and anguish flows through me once again.

It's the same. It is always the same.

Yanking my hand away from his, I frown and in his eyes I can see now confusion. I scoff and turn away from him, not letting myself sink in those oceans of blue and green. "Why..." I pause for a moment letting myself take a breath. "Why do you always come after me?"

And then there was silence. Complete and utter silence. The silence was cold and engulfing me. Maybe I shouldn't have asked.

"Ahh…" The gasp comes out without consent. My lips part as I feel him wrap his tattooed arms around me. My back pressed tightly against his amazingly warm chest.

His head leaned down resting on my shoulder. I could feel his hot breath against my skin. "Don't you remember sleeping beauty..." he whispers into my ear as fingers trace along my pale cheeks. "You said you were always mine."

I frown and shake out of his embrace. "Don't call me that," I scoff as I turn around and poke him in the chest. Meeting his eyes I felt the familiar heat arising to my cheeks so I let my head fall to the side. My fingers hook on my belt and I slightly shrug. "Besides..." My throat was dry now and I knew my voice had grown shaky but I still manage to reply, "I lied."

Strong hands grab my shoulders and spin me around to face him. And although I had a frown on my face, he had a wide – seditious - grin on his. That grin. It's making me lose focus. All I can think about is our closeness. How his eyes twinkle with vivacity as he looks into my dull listless ones and how his hands move from my shoulders to cup my cheeks. He licks his lips, and my attention shifts to them. And in an instant, like lightening striking, his lips capture mine.

Our lips began to move together in familiarity. My heart rate escalates the way it always does. Parting my lips he enters my mouth and I caress his tongue with his own. I take a breath and gasp as he captures my bottom lip. His teeth gently nibble on it making shockwaves flow through me. He is definitely the best kisser I have ever known.

"Mmmmm," the sound escapes before I could stop it. I feel Jared smile against my lips and then his hands drop from my cheeks as he breaks away. And just like that the fire comes to an end.

Unzipping his orange hoodie he slips it off and around my shoulders. "Come on." He repeats for the second time today as he turns his back to me. I immediately know what he wants and smirk. Some things never change. With a hop, I jump on this back, his hands holding me by the back of my knees.

Jared shivers when my hands trace along the inked design on the back of his neck. "Fuck! Your hands are freezing!" He wines as I finally crack a genuine smile. Tucking my hands against my chest, the side of my face presses against his back.

The smile on my face stays in place as Jared continues walking with me on his back. Just like it has always been, even before I lost myself. He has always been here: always next to me. Even though the others care for me they have never seen this side of me.

"Well... what did she do this time?" The tone of his voice slightly irritated, knowing full well momma dearest is somehow behind this. It didn't take much to know she was at fault for my... habits.

"She threw it away." My breath came in a little shallow as the memories and the itch flood back into my consciousness. "She threw my collection away."

"It was stupid anyway." He pointed out, completely dismissing it. Guess it was his way of telling me to get over it. It was a bad way but it was his way.

Stupid. I felt the need to defend myself; though deep down I knew it was stupid it was still something more. "They were… special." I mumble more to myself than to him, but when I heard him sneer I knew he had heard me.

"Since when is a scab collection special."

A lump fills in my throat at his statement. He can't understand. He never has, he just accepts it. More importantly he doesn't question it. Well most of the time anyway. "It isn't simple to explain."

"It is simple."

Groan.

And so it begins. Another classic discussion between mister hot shot and me; miss self-destruction.

I snort. "Nothing is simple." I try to tell him, but I already know it's useless even before this conversation began.

"Everything is simple."

"We can never agree."

"Because you have to disagree." He answers, clear amusement in his voice and even though I can't see his face I knew he was smirking. That stupid, kind of cute, trademark smirk he so often wears.

Sigh.

"Fuck you Jared." Curling my finger, I flicked the tip of his ear and a small chuckle emits when he flinches. I should have given him a wet willie instead.

He glances over his shoulder and I could see him give me a crooked smile. "Right back at'cha... Anastasia." He retorts, fully pronouncing my first name.

I cringe at the sound of it. I hate my name. Always have. "Jerk." I mutter groggily and a loud yawn comes from my mouth before I can even think about it. It wasn't surprising that I was so tired. Not an once of sleep has become me since the night before last.

Jared jiggles me a bit and then laughs at groans of protest. "You're pouting aren't you?" My eyes narrow so much they look like thin slits. How did he always know? I don't say anything; just huff and I guess that was enough to confirm his accusation because he starts laughing again. I open my mouth to make a come back but another yawn comes out instead. "Get some sleep."

Although he can't tell I still nod my head slightly. I yawn again and rub my eyes a little. As I do, something suddenly crosses my mind. I wonder… will he remember this?

"You think you could sprinkle some fairy dust on me." It is more than obvious I catch him off guard because he makes a small grunting sound. It is his grunt of confusion and I know it all too well. My small smile grows; he is so cute when taken off guard. "So I can fly away." I fill in hoping it is enough for him to catch on.

He shakes his head softly. I think he is laughing, but I can't hear the sounds. "Maybe someday." I was down right grinning by now. He did remember.

"Will you fly away with me?" My eyes drift close, but my ears hold out awaiting his answer.

"Doesn't the prince always follow sleeping beauty?"

The goofy grin on my face is unstoppable as my mind wanders further in unconsciousness. It was the perfect answer. Only I'm not the perfect girl. And for a sleeping beauty such as me, prince charming does not exist.

No.

Not in my dream. In my dream sleeping beauty slumbers alone. No matter how much fairydust is sprinkled on her.

--

This is a short oneshot that I wrote a while ago but it was written for the movie The Covenant. The OC is mine but Jared is loosely based off the character I imagine Reid Garwin to be from that movie. I hope you enjoyed it and please be so kind as to leave me a review with your feedback. If enough feedback is received then I will make this into a full story.