Fear Is Not Welcome Here
warning: slight gore
What stays flying eventually will fall, just like a machine, its wings will run out of battery, nothing is meant to last for a lifetime. Nothing.
Sometimes, it's just hard keeping both feet on the ground, when you're so high up the pedestal, you get tired of the gold underneath your feet and all the eyes on you, that you feel like you're better off falling.
As things came into focus, so did a unfamiliar warm feeling, a heated hand sliding over the dip between my hips and abdomen. In confusion, I tried to remind myself of any memories of the night before. Nothing, nothing at all in that moment everything that was happening, was occurring and it was happening fast. My thoughts moved back to where they had to be, in the moment, drifting my thoughts solely to the familiar sensation of fingertips in between my legs and I couldn't help but smile.
I rolled over—brushing aside the well knowledgeable feeling of my lace satin night-dress—just to get a glimpse of whose hands were smothered all over my bare thighs and once I did, I gasped at the stunning sight in front of me: tangled silky hair rested along her arms and in between them and over her blushing cheeks, crimson undertones yet a flushing pearly bleached skin tone. Her face lazily pressed against the dark satin pillows causing her dark mid-face wavy bangs to fall over her visage, her eyes were still fastened by sleep whereas her reddish lips were slightly parted.
She slowly unscrewed her eyes, quietly mewling, not bothering moving her long hair to the side, instead, she looked at me through them and smiled with a half-drunken look on her face, the thin corners of her lips reached to her ears. Excitement, heat and desire in her gaze. When her eyes met mine I furrowed my eyebrows and tried to smile back but I couldn't help but shake my head at her.
"So that's what you are? I worked so hard to be where I am right now and I'm not going to let you take that away from me," she whispered in an alluring tone, her voice sounded husky, impaled in tiredness and fatigue.
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean?"
She had herself propped up on her arms, then she gazed at me through her long eyelashes, occasionally slowly batting them in an attempt to move the thinner strands of hair away from her face. She brought her lips almost close to mine before saying with a frown: "I guess you're just like the other girls that swear their one-sided love is the only fuel that keeps them devoted volleyball, once I step into the picture, they make sure they ruin mine but you are different you are the only one who couldn't keep her little mouth shut. You are the only one who lied about being in love with me."
I couldn't help screwing my eyes shut.
"Don't say that. You don't mean it," -I bit hard on my lower lip holding back my tears, completely pushing aside what I felt a few seconds ago. She leaned into me grabbing me by the arm and pulled me towards her and I swallowed hard- "it’s not what they make it seem, they don't mean it. They don't mean it. None of them loved you as hard as I did."
"Get over yourself!" She let out a whimper as she looked at me dead in the eyes. A moment of complete silence and it was nothing but a constant head-drilling torment. She reached forward and ran her finger on my lips, then she showed me her bloody thumb and she brought her impure finger to her lips and sucked. Her eyes pierced in mine and all I could do was let out a deep sigh, dizzy.
My side of the bed—that we both laid in—started to sink deeper and deeper, I pulled out my other arm and held tightly onto hers scared to fall, my heart was beating right against my rib cage, I could feel the weak thumping, loud and clear like a morning alarm, the thudding was hard enough to rock my feeble body in what had become a hollow hole beneath me.
"I still haven't learnt how to fall, so please don't let me sink in deep!" I yelled. She leaned over and the more she did, the more my body would sink deeper into the black hole right underneath me; she leaned over just so that we could see each other.
I turned and looked down and all I could see what my broken-porcelain-like thighs, I gasped holding in my breath and looked back up with a questioning hurt look.
"Fear isn't welcome here!"
Dark thick blood rushed across my arm and I gasped. Whose blood was it? I could hardly make out the smell and even the thought of having that substance running all over my body made me sick. The blood slowly started turning into a gold-like-colour colour, what did it mean? The rich kill and get away with it. They stand still on golden pedestals and yet I'm the one who's falling.
Then she let go.
𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮
When the quiet nonchalant, antisocial personality disorder, volleyball player Mercedes-who has never lost a round with her team-comes face to face with Edith Kavinsky, her new Coach, that has only got one thing in her mind: take her team to the finals and come out as winners-with or without broken bones. Mercedes grows to realise that Coach Kavinsky is no match for her. Pierre Larmoyant the handsome, rich-diamond earring hanging from his right ear, type or rich-basketball player from the similar varsity as Mercedes, suddenly bumps into Mercedes and from then on he'll become what she describes as a lover boy. A physical repressor of her feelings. In volleyball as your muscles stretch, pulling just for them to contract suddenly and as you breathe fanatically, you grow to think it's for the better but the more you improve, the higher you rank on the pedal stall to overuse and traumatic injuries. Once you're on that pedal stall unless you jump, you must be okay with the fact that everything that rises has to fall.
There's something, cold-blooded and sadistic about lonely women
