The bones of her skinny hands could be seen moving as three fingers of her left hands darted out to remove the tresses of hair, which had managed to escape from the tight grip of the bobby pins she’d placed on her head, from in front of her eyes. The wind whipping its rage across the sunken cheekbones of her face, and the flesh stretched below the delicate nape.
Her lace shirt rose a little and unconsciously, her hand left the tendril to flow with the wind as she pulled the soft fabric down. Her eyes widened, and darted relentlessly from left to right, making sure that no one had seen the raw skin of her belly. On its own accord, her right hand slithered under her shirt, and she felt the red finger marks beneath her fingertips. A hiss escaped from the back of her throat as images of what had happened a few hours ago made their way to the conscious part of her existence, making her halt in her tracks.
A single drop of water fell on the waxen skin of her arm from where the sleeve had been ripped off. Slowly, she looked up trying to find the find the trace of a single cloud, but her dark orbs skirted along an absolutely clear, black canvas- the specs of the magnificent white shining bright. Before the second drop could fall on her stained body, she wiped the back of her hand across the dampness in her eyes, which seemed like a replica of the dark, obscure dusk itself.
She could feel those fingers skirting along her pure, seventeen year old skin. The taste of the concoction of the sweat clinging to her skin, the tears dripping from the seams of her eyes, and the pain seering through every muscle of her young body still lingered on her tongue. The sensation of different fingers digging into the skin stretched across her hipbone, while she desperately tried to free herself from the chains of animosity made her head spin and the dampness in her eyes increased to such an extent that it was close to spilling.
Closing her eyes, she felt the cold air brushing against the naked parts of her skin and she didn’t even realize when her knees gave way under the weight of the secrets that made her heart heavy. Mustering all of the courage she had, she pulled herself up and let out an animalistic growl. The soles of her feet padded along the pavement as her used body moved swiftly in the darkness of the night. The beat of the thump created by her bare feet slapping against the floor increased just like the one in her heaving chest.
Stopping in front of the back door of her house, she wiped the back of her palm along the sheen of sweat that has appeared on her forehead. The click ricocheted off of the walls of the void house. Reaching the writing desk of her room, she clicked her pen open and scribbled a note on the smoothness of the blank sheet. Revolution came to be known when those words weren’t her last bye, but the first hello of her true self.