wilted — georgina, day six
Apr 3, 2020 3:53:05 GMT -5
Post by 4m dagger thane 🗡jay on Apr 3, 2020 3:53:05 GMT -5
GEORGINA
Georgina Hayward is delicate — a flower wilting at the edges. Plucked ivory petals weave through unkempt hair, gleaming under sunbeams that bleed through the canopies. She lays in the overgrowth that sits beside the stone-braided river, running her fingers through the foliage.Her hands were clean, skin rubbed raw of the dried blood that painted them. Georgina was never one for blood, grimacing at the site of the ruby-red stained stone. When she tripped and scraped her knee in third grade, her mom refused to let her play with the elementary children for weeks. That was the first time when they looked at her with their familiar hollow eyes, speaking behind her back with cupped palms and hushed whispers.She envies the flowers, the way they curl under the sun and dance in the wind like the ballerinas in the ballets her parents took her too watch.It only took her a second to realize why she envied them,freedom.
