Paper Shreds

Rees Millay – Answers.

It was early morning. Streaks of lemonade yellow and orange dreamily drifted through the thick windows. Shame they were sliced with iron bars. I'd do anything to get free again.

It was a mistake. I should've never have trusted her. She was the silent killer type; innocent, but venomous. The ring of alarm bells...storms clouds of dust...tri-coloured flames...I had nothing to do with it, but my price was a coma with no chance of going back.

No chance to rebuild.

Here I am, in the middle of No-Man's Land, in a foetal position, dry, sticky tracks of tears creating a jigsaw all over my face. Why was I crying? Not for fate being unfair but...I'd failed her. Up above.

All of my memories came flooding back. Not a single one happy. Me as a youngster, frozen over a lake of blood with Mum sleeping in it. I could've asked for the truth.

But the truth doesn't like me.

It was all too much; the tears came back with a vengeance again. I crawled over to the tiny cracked mirror and looked at myself. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. My face was completely deformed. Papa always told me I would be beautiful to him no matter what I looked like.

How can you be beautiful with a face that looked like it was dragged down by a person with long fingers?

No wonder I was on my own.

Isis Khana – Thoughts.

I waited on the street. Waiting for him. I was so powerless, it was a laughing joke.

No wonder I had a body fit for an ill person.

Coming from a privileged background, you had to be at the top of your game. If there were obstacles, get over it and just carry on. How can you when you get beaten just for whimpering?

Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. They're always there for me, helping me. They are my soul and body. But this time the truth was too painful and explosive to pass the sweet, gentle lips.

But the truth is powerful. The truth comes out.

Love is like a page made with shreds.

Rees Millay – Reality.

If only someone could understand...

I looked out of the window. A landscape, holding the key to my life.

Searching was not going to be easy.

A friend that understood. A friend that could trust me and confess to me.

Just that isn't enough.

What kind of friend would I be, I thought.

Suddenly, something caught my eye. Right down below my window, two muscled policemen were tightly gripping on a tiny frail, figure, a girl, screeching, with scars and wounds dotted all over her frame.

She looked as though she'd been through similar life experiences as me.

Definitely a key to my paper shreds.

Isis Khana – Fortune.

What did I do?

Why was I here?

All question echoed through my head as the police dragged me through the lone, dark hallways, lined with cells holding people with tales of sorrow and woe written on their faces.

Eventually, I was checked in with a small, pale boy, with the most awful face I'd ever seen. His chocolate brown eyes shouted it all.

"Why am I here?" I whimpered.

"You, standing on the wrong side of the street, young miss." He hissed with hatred. He particularly hissed 'miss' with hate.

"Now keep away from 'im until I come back, you gottit?" He whispered with a clamour.

"Yes, sir" I replied quietly.

I closed my eyes as I carefully heard his footsteps fade away.

Rees Millay – Remember.

He came back, his footsteps injecting fear into me every time he came closer. He was holding a board.

"What's that for..." I stuttered as he began slotting the board in place.

"One, for you to shut up" he explained, irritated, "and two, for as males and females must be kept apart."

I was genuinely shell-shocked.

I shot up as I saw the last flash of her. She had pale skin, like me, and she had long, lank, straggly ginger hair, accompanied with golden green eyes.

I never knew the police had their views on sexism.

What a sick world we live in.

Rees Millay and Isis Khana - Life and Desperation.

We cuddled up against our respective walls and wondered, for once, what our cellmates' story was. For once, it was about us. This was too much. We couldn't hold it in any longer. We had to rebel against the police.

Our lives – certainly paper shreds.

Read more about Rees and Isis in my next instalment, When The Pieces Form. Coming soon!