A Ruptured Heal

A dry, red tongue roughly rubbed over cracked, chapped lips. A sigh escaped. "There's no way."

She heard his voice echo inside her, violently bumping within. Bruising her. She closed her earth-brown eyes. "Are you sure?"

Again he licked his quickly drying lips. "Yeah," this time his voice emerged in a whisper.

A low sob escaped from the young woman's hunched physique. "Okay," her voice came out softer than his.

Outside, the sun finished hiding behind the far away skyscrapers, causing a shadow to crawl over the city. The dark living room they sat in dimmed, bringing in another layer of obscurity to drape and spread. The plain room consisted of only a three seat, black leather sofa placed several feet in front of a wooden table holding a television so small, it went unnoticed even in its unadorned environment. A beige carpet tried to offer comfort under the couple's feet.

Sitting on the sofa, the two arched bodies were positioned several inches away from each other when countless times before, they had nestled within each other.

"So, now what?" the young woman spoke, her bowed head refusing to rise. She felt his weight on the sofa on the opposite end heave away as he stood up.

"I leave," he spoke firmly for the first time.

She didn't remember hearing the door close much less his footsteps as he left. All she could focus on was the isolation that suddenly asphyxiated her. Her soft sobs that hiccupped to the surface quickly evolved into eye bawling cries. She allowed herself to immerse until finally smearing her tears over her cheeks in her attempt to wipe them away, she finally stood up. However, her face remained hidden behind the curtain of her dark brown hair.

All she could envision was him.

His dull green eyes. You couldn't tell they were green unless you were inches from his face, but that's if they weren't hiding behind his shaggy brown hair. He was lanky, yet had a solid essence following him around. She loved that aura around him; it helped her feel strong.

But now, it was gone.

She sighed.

Finally lifting her head, she pushed her hair behind her ears. Pausing to stare at the white walls with swollen eyes, she then shifted away to her room where she stood at the doorway, unable to enter. Observing her messy bed, its sheets rippled across the mattress, she hugged herself as she began to shiver. Slumping against the doorway, her shivering increased, causing her locks to draw over her face again.

Not now, she thought, curling into herself.

"But you need me," another voice spoke.

Her shivering stopped.

Lifting her head, her eyes sharpened the evidence of her tears away. Striding into her room, her hips snapped from side to side, arms shifting with the rhythm of her body. Stopping in front of the mirror, she glared at herself before popping open the purple makeup box before her. Clangs and claps chipped at the air as makeup brushes and compacts were shifted around and opened. Powdered substances began to mark a face which didn't necessarily require such pulverized residue. It wasn't until she heard the whisper that she stopped. It was coming from the reflection on the mirror.

"Maybe he'll come back," the nude lips on the mirror moved.

"He left," bright pink lips answered.

"But maybe-"

"Fuck him."

The reflection paused. "You don't have to do this. We…"

She stopped applying the makeup, obviously finished, brown eyes framed by a cheap sky, cheeks bursting with fury, and lips polished by dying pink flower petals.

She grinned.

"We don't have to go out," the reflection continued to pester.

"It is the only way you will forget. I will take care of you."

"I don't want to…"

"Then why did you let me out?"

The reflection did not answer.

She picked up some money and, wrapping it around her ID, shoved them into the back pocket of her jeans. She looked at the reflection again. "You told him about us and he left."

The reflection's eyes began to water and soon tears trailed on her cheeks. However, her face remained dry. Makeup intact.

"Fuck him," the reflection whispered.


Walking slowly, the hunched figure had both his hands in his pockets. Long, brown shaggy hair that slightly bounced with each step he took framed his sorrowful features. Distressed, green eyes planted to the ground, he was thankful for the lonely sidewalk.

However, his distraught thoughts refused to leave him. He played the scenario of sitting on her couch several times in his mind, trying to find a reason for him to turn around and return to her. Each time he repeated the scene, outlining their dialogue, configuring their body language, it keep minimizing itself until the whole situation was worn down to one line. Something she said.

"I have a split personality."

He shivered. Having halted his pacing, he looked up to the sky, longing for the strength to return. He wanted to, but–

Two personalities? I never saw them. Why would she lie? he pondered.

Inhaling the damp aroma of the twilight world he was in, he continued to engross himself in his thoughts. She lied. She lied. She lied to him. That'll cover up what he knows is his truth.

He fears her.

Shivering again, he took seat on a nearby bench. Grounded to a spot now, he realized he was in a park hardly containing any people. Draping his arms on the top of the bench, he threw his head back to observe the few stars in the dusk sky. It wasn't until the now dark sky smiled with scattered teeth that he heard a voice.

"And why not? Last time we found someone was in the park. But is it because of him that you do not wish to be here?"

He lifted his head, granting him a slight headache from having been pulled back for so long. He recognized the figure walking towards him.

"Makeup?" he said, features molded into confusion.

She halted, finally taking notice of him. She grinned.

"Don't like it?" her smirk widened.

"You don't wear makeup."

"I told you he wouldn't remember."

He squinted at her. "That doesn't make sense."

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "I wasn't talking to you."

He flinched. Again she grinned, and walking up next to him, placed her foot on the bench he was sitting on. Leaning on her leg with her elbow, she angled herself inches from his face.

"When you first met us, it was me who you saw. I always wear makeup." Her grin never faded.

He withdrew away from her, standing up. "I…I don't remember."

"As I imagined," she said lowering her leg. "Want to talk to her?"


She had her eyes closed, eyebrows laced with what looked like pain or sorrow. Suddenly, her head dropped and her hands went up to her cheeks. He heard what sounded like sobs as her hands began to rub her face. When she finally looked up, he understood by the smeared makeup that she was trying to remove it. Her eyes were glassy.

"It…it's me," she said with a small voice.

He didn't speak, simply standing, staring at her. Too preoccupied dwelling on the fact that someone transformed in front of him, he could only gape.

"Please, don't just look at me," she took a step towards him. He flinched, causing her to retreat her action. "It's not bad. I'm not bad."

He closed his mouth only to open it for it to close again. She gazed at him, impatiently waiting for him to speak.

"How do I know that the other one isn't the real you?" he finally spoke.

That question obviously threw her off. "Huh?"

"I can't." He shook his head. "I just can't! I don't know who you are!"

She gasped, eyes widening and beginning to tear up.

"I told you," the voice snickered.

"No." Her answer wasn't directed at him. She momentarily closed her eyes to push back tears. Straightening herself, not just physically, she glared at him.

Startled at her abnormal action, he asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I leave."

Originally, when the other personality inside her would speak, her dialogue was in different font, but I don't think you can do that here, so hence the italics.

But yeah...hope you liked it...just something I worked on in one of my creative writing classes. It's still a little iffy, so I'm hoping you guys can help me out with ideas or suggestions. :D

Thanks for reading!