doll eyes


taken from here.

years and years of suffering under the hands of salem, and she thought she was done? not even close. the real suffering has only just started. it’s in the black specks at the corners of her vision, shadows. they sneer at her, they think she doesn’t see, laugh loud until she does, until she loses her self control. they mock her openly. shrill voices static in her mind. meek whispers fall from her lips, leave me alone. why should we? they chant, gremlin children. they are children, a child has created them. summer was salem’s pretty porcelain doll, summer is salem’s pretty porcelain doll; glass beads for eyes, blood for lipstick, a ribbon-tied knife in her back. salem is a child, conceited, blissfully unaware, pulling at summer’s hair, pulling, pulling, pulling. a white-toothed smile. let’s see what those silver eyes can do for you when you’re under my heel, you wench. but it’s not her, it’s not her hand summer shuns, it’s not her voice summer reels from, it’s not her laugh that has summer fall to the floor. ah wait, then who’s is it? where is she? what just happened? “j…james?!” when did he get here? did she ever leave? a whirlwind of emotions and none of them are hers. “don’t touch me?”

his blue eyes grow weary, and he backs away from her. when she gets like this he can only watch, helpless. // @rcsebush