that broken place I go [stare]
May 13, 2012 4:36:54 GMT -5
Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on May 13, 2012 4:36:54 GMT -5
ELVIRA DEMPSEY-FARLOW
[/color][/size]She lives in a fairy tale
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of the world that she’s left behind
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of the world that she’s left behind
[/justify][/size][/color]Thinking
Emphasis
Talking
Normal
To me, the bare forest is as empty as my heart, and my heart is more barren a land than most. It reminds me of a graveyard, so elegant and majestic that it suggests some past grandeur that has already faded away completely. Only the shells of what was once a life remain, for this is a graveyard of tree's fallen. This is a graveyard of souls lost. And I fear that if I linger too long here, whatever is left of my soul will become discarded and forgotten, too. Only once have I visited a land of headstones and bodies buried six feet below myself. I remember that day as I remember almost every moment of my childhood - hauntingly crisp and clear. My bare feet crossed the path and ventured onto the grass. It was growing lushly over the freshly turned dirt that coated the grave of my father. I felt no sorrow, not really. He was a terrible, terrible man and he has done bad things. But then again, hadn't we all? Wasn't the very blood that ran through the Dempsey veins laced with the poison that Kae dished out upon others? Poison, or just our own family brand of crazy? It hardly matters now, anyway. By the time I reach the grave of my father the wind has stopped howling in my ears. The rain has stopped falling upon my face and forcing the mascara to treck down my cheeks as though I had been crying. Everything is still, so eerily still it is as though I can feel my brothers eyes upon my back. Those eyes that make me want to run and run and run forever without turning back. That feeling I have to fight back so I can smile in such a sickly sweet way and sweet with the sugary words that infuriate him. But this time nobody was watching me so I could. I fled from the graveyard and my fathers rotting body without another thought. It was as though time has been paused and as soon as I left the rocky gates of the graveyard time began again and the wind whirled the leaves on the sidewalk, and the rain poured. I did not cry that day, but I wanted to.
And now I stand here in the ashen forest that was blazing with violent flames just days before and wonder were the heat has gone. That pounding, swimming moving life of flames and tree's and fear. It was so alive and now it is but a graveyard. Smouldering remains of what was once a forest. I am not an arsonist. I do not burn things for pleasure - I have my own ways of finding true happiness in my barren heartless world. But I did burn this forest. If only to prove that there was some other life out here in the wilderness - that I did not leave the districts for nothing. And hopefully Kae would see the smoke blooming from the highest branches of the elm trees and fear me. As I have always feared him, I want him to feel that fear burning in his throat when he thinks that I am pursuing him. I found her body. I did and I know exactly who my brother is and I want to the world to know it. His world. I want his world to burn like the forest that surrounds me, an ashen graveyard deprived of life.
I used to wonder why I hate my brother so. Why, when I think of him, looking so much like me, slipping poison into the drinks of those too intoxicated to notice, I feel rage in my chest. It bubbles up like a volcano consuming me and then I realise that I only hate him because there is nobody else left to hate. I hated my father, but when he passed away every shred of resentment I held against him vanished. It was as though my pain was buried six feet beneath the ground, encased in his coffin. And so I began to hate others, but one by one my hate died for them too, and Kae was all I had left. It was easy, really, to hate my brother. I was so fearful of him, so jealous that he was the one with the family to begin with and I was the addition that everybody wished never happened. After all, it was always me who ruined it all, coming to his house when he was just a small boy and looking at Kendra with my eyes. My fathers eyes. Those Dempsey eyes which seem as unavoidable and recognisable as the bitter, ruthless blood that flashes when any one of us performs some unthinkable act. When I sit and watch a baby die of some terrible flu, and do not pray or shed a tear. When I waste every last wish I have left on hateful things. Those are the times when anybody looking at me would say - she must be a Dempsey. A bitter, heartless creature who never thought about anybody but herself. Twisted. Intent on ruining the lives of those around her, if not ending them. And you know what? They would be right, for that is who I am. As sickening and frightful as it is, I am a Dempsey and I will do whatever it takes to have revenge upon the cruel cruel world and every single person in it.
I will begin with my brother. I am thinking of this as I sit surrounded by fallen, blackened branches. I never regret running away from District One. It limited me. And still I have not completed my mission. When I shook with anger and pain at the realisation of my brother's departure I promised myself one thing. That I would ruin my dear, dear brothers life in the same way I had always done. I am Elvira, after all. Nobody escapes me when I become intent upon discovering every last one of their filthy, filthy secrets and destroying every shred of happiness they still possessed. That was the one thing I knew how to do when I was simply a child, only just able to speak for myself. And in truth that is truly the only thing I know how to do now. I certainly do not know how to be happy myself, how to lace my life with the pleasant wonders that others do. I have my moments of gratification. Kendra's dead body lying on the floor and the look in Kae's eyes. Knowing that I physically did not kill his mother, but I delivered the secret that destroyed her.
I do not believe in suicide. Only murder. Is it suicide when one of Kae's victims lifts a glass to their lips and drinks deeply, because they have inflicted the poison upon themselves? No. It is murder. Is it suicide, then, when someone intentionally throws their crippled body from a cliff, slits their wrists, allows a gun to backfire into their brain? No. Because they did not come to that dark place alone. Someone led them there. Someone did not only show them the way, but they forced them deeper and deeper into nothingness until they were too numb to feel anymore. So when Kendra died, Kae hated me. Because I was the one holding the strings and I was the one who tipped her over the edge. So aware was I that I managed to smile in my childish, innocent way, so thick with cruelty and malice I am almost ashamed.
Almost.