In a little white cubicle of the bathroom, her legs were in a jumping-jack stance. Sheiy Sythe infront of a mirror were looking at herself. Her breath fogging the mirror on the cold winter morning. She hated her face looking back at her. The reflection of three scars at her right side, very deeply cut from her past.
She couldn’t cry anymore, couldn’t shed a tear. This was also a horrible year. This was one of the coldest days she ever had which affected her mood. She was never preppy, kind or even talkative. She could only talk to herself about her problems, talking to herself-- to ask her conscience or her gut.
Running her hand through her hair her expression turned grim. Like an electric eel going through her soul her hatred made her slam the mirror. “They don’t know me… They hate me.” Smashing again and again, “I hate you, I hate you!”
She was a little girl age of three, playing with her doll: spotty was its name. Her father and mothers voices were getting louder and louder. Sheiy was clinging fearfully to the doll. Her father came in with a fire poker. Screaming, “You cheat on me again?” And he slashed Sheiy’s left cheek. Sheiy cried out loud with a sharp hoarse voice. She screamed, “dah….” Tears running down her cheeks. Her father screamed, “If you cheat again, much worse will happen. For all I know she is not my child.”
The mother screamed back, “She’s yours, he didn’t do anything!”
Looking at her slow bleeding palms, she realised that no one was near her. No one was there to help her. She will slowly bleed to death—she wished.
She clenched her hands slowly – having trouble to pick up a piece of soap. Watching it eddying around the sink. She reached out and wrote on the mirror. “Die”
“Is this my life… Is this me…”
Her vision started turning blurry, she stumbled to the nearest bath and laid down her arms into the bath. Her breath became cold, irrepressible, un able to breath again. This world was dark, tearful and sad for her.
Her friends hated her, she never had love in her life before. Having been taken from her abusive family might have been a breather, but it still grasped her breath away from being abused and not loved.
”I miss love… I wish I had love.” She shouted out, knowing that no one would be there to listen to her.
A smell of sulphur and disinfectant raised her from her drowsy and lightheaded feeling.
Sheiy stood from the bathroom floor. Seeing her palm marks everywhere. A strange black creature was standing over the mess she made. “I will change you. I will bring you a life you never earned in this life… “
She reached to the stranger, when she pulled her hands back frightened from the sharp silver scythe. Gasping she saw it was the grim reaper… “I’m crazy, no… can’t be”
Empty eyes staring at her. His breath having the look of ice drawing near. It was a cold day, but for something like him, how does he breath were does the heat come from.
The grim creature grabbed her hand, “Will you make the deal?!” He shouted and pulled her up and embracing her with a hug--even if it was not a hug it was from the faint feeling from loss of blood. Her cheeks turned white, her eyes golden sheen turning evil and her heart turned cold.
“Yes! I’ll take it! Anything for love!”
A golden parchment frilled open with large words in another language, what ever stood there she knew it had to give her what she needed. Scanning it with her eyes she heard him say. “Your mark is needed”
The grim reaper held out the paper tapping it with his large talon like nails. The nails were long and curled, still it looked like old bone.
Limply she put her stretched out hand onto the paper. The Smile of the Grim looked into her eyes grabbing her hand and pressing its only short thumb nail into her palm. Mesmerizing her, like a sadist his eyes were empty, socketless, no skin and stone fossilized body and face.
The fossil body was the result of living for thousand of years.
“Deal!” He pulled her with his skinny arms and pulled her to the cold mirror she smashed. Taking a piece of glass he said, “Use this mirror piece to make any boy fall for you…”
Sheiy took the piece of mirror and looking back at the grim—he was gone…
Standing outside at the dog park, huffing: Where will I find the correct boy, this is the coldest winter I’ve ever had.
She looked at the first boy to pass her, brown hair and blue eyes. Oh, those eyes… let me think.
Another group of guys passed: Too old, too young.
She cupped her hands together breathing heat into her hands, but it did not help her. Her breath was as cold as ice point. My breath and body can freeze my tears if I even cried; I am going to have to find the correct boy, but how.
Suddenly a warm wrap was put over her naked shoulders, looking next to her. A boy was sharing his jacket. His hair had a natural brown cow-lick and cut short. He had very little of a beard, he seemed to be in his teens and Sheiy was in her early teens. She looked at his eyes: Baby blue and sharing too.
She glanced at the piece of glass in her clenched hand. She didn’t need it did she?
From a distance a strange girl with long pigtails ran toward the boy next to her. The girl looked at Sheiy and frowned at the boy, “You left me at the stand…” The girl looked at Sheiy’s palms, “urg, you didn’t see this girl got problems already.”
“I thought she needed a helping hand, hun”
Sheiy figured this girl was this boy’s girlfriend. Sheiy twiddled the glass piece in her hand, taking off his jacket from her shoulders and holding it out: I don’t need this, he can take it back