The Sound of Silence - (RE: Lilium make a story plox)

Ok ^.^ as a request from Saja and Ciel I've written a little something something. I'm having one of those nights where I just refuse to go to sleep HAHAHA! @.@ Sorry if its kind of long.

The Sound of Silence
By Victoria N.
"Lillium"

The darkness was pleasing, as always. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end; she had learned this long ago. Stubbornly, the rain continued to pound against the glass, running down in a curtain of blur and discord.
Forcing her eyes open, the mirror complexion of the ceiling fan twirled within the lake of color. Heaving a soft sigh, she knew that the blessing of sight demonstrated how simple it was to murder her happiness. It wasn’t the dreams she appreciated about sleeping, it was the sleep itself, the comfy notion of not having to deal with any emotion or anyone else’s emotion.
Rolling to her side, she flinched as her hair got caught underneath her shoulder, tugging it as she turned. “Stupid bitch.” She whispered, lifting up her head, removing the annoyance. Gripping the blankets tightly, she hesitantly folded them over her body, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress. In ritual rather then thought, she rose, her 100% cotton covered feet meeting the cold floor. Leaning over, her knees extended as she stood, only to have the breath taken from her.
Her eyes widened, the dark lashes peeling back, resembling eyeliner against her skin. Her knees and elbows buckled as a wave of confusion took control of her, grabbing her spine and dancing with it, like a puppet master with his puppet. Dropping to her knees, she cried out softly as her knee caps were forced higher out of their sockets with the collision of the ground jarring them.
Leaning over, she spread out her hands to cover more surface area as her arms helped to prop her up, her elbows trembling gently. Her mouth remained open momentarily as deep heavy breaths sucked in small strands of her hair that were stuck to her cheeks from the cold sweat.
Shifting her gaze cautiously, thinking any sudden movement might send her eyes rolling from her head, she stared at the floor ahead of her, seeing books and broken glass in front of her bookcase. That’s when she remembered why she was so eager to get to sleep that night, and why she was so disappointed to wake up.
Tilting her head, she bit the bottom of her lip, feeling the sharpness with each heavy gasp that was forced upon her. Wrapping her arm around her stomach, she shifted her knees, placing her hand over her rib. Like everyone’s instinct when they encounter pain in their own home, she headed for the bathroom. Forcing herself to stand, she staggered slightly, finding her balance by gripping the doorknob. And like a Gypsy in a Catholic church, she cautiously peeled the door away from its frame, feeling her small joints crack in her wrist.
Peering from the small opening, her eyes moved anxiously, but realizing there wasn’t anything too interesting going on in the hallway, she made her way to the bathroom. Limping here and there whenever the pain shot through her, she relied on the wall for support. Reaching the first door on the left, right before the entrance to the living room, she stretched her arm into the dark room dramatically, patting the wall with a wide hand until her skin grazed across the light switch.
Fingering it momentarily, making sure it was what she knew it was, she flipped it up. And the reliable phrase, “let there be like,” had always appealed to her in these instances. Stepping into the room, she could feel the cushion of the throw rub beneath her feet. Squinting as she looked into the mirror, her pupils adjusted to the florescent lights beating down on her face.
Gripping the plaster counter, she leaned forward, looking down into the drain of the sink, her breathing becoming labored again. Fumbling to take hold of her shirt, she tugged it up to her breasts, staring at herself in the mirror, finding the culprit that hid in plain sight.
Her lungs calmed themselves, relaxing her breath. Reaching out, she extended her fingers until the tips collided slowly with the mirror. Shaking her head she ripped her hand away, relocating it to her own skin. Watching her motions carefully, like a TV show, the girl hesitantly touched the gash that distorted her not-so-perfect skin. It was located in the center of a blue and purple pool.
Starting off very thin, the cut moved across her ribcage, gradually getting larger until it was possible to fit a quarter comfortably into the opening end. She tilted her head, recognizing it as a horizontal raindrop.
It must have ripped open when I was asleep, she thought, finding comfort in that logic. Her finger peeled back a small flap of skin that was on the edge of the cut, examining the healing process that was barely noticeable. “Fuck it.” She hissed, lowering her shirt, sick of looking at herself.
Flipping off the light she moved back into the hallway. Standing as still as she possibly could without having taken her behavioral medicines, she held her breath, listening for signs of life. After a few seconds she exhaled, finding herself alone. It wasn’t the emptiness that bothered her; she just found it distasteful when things were taken away from her. Moving smoothly into the living room her eyes lit up as the silver light from the gray sky broke through the window.
Staring down around the old oak coffee table, she pushed several empty beer bottles and unpaid car loans to the side with her foot, listening to the melodic song they sang as their glass bodies connected and collected, sliding easily over the white envelopes.
Still enduring pain, which she believed she would endure all day, she slowly walked towards the TV, afraid of moving too fast. Pushing in the power button, she stepped back as the fuzziness formed a face, and then a desk, and then shat out the news station with Dan Malcovitc reporting from around the world within an impressive 60 minutes.
She grunted at the sound of his voice, she knew she could report that shit in 50 minutes, that dumb ass. Turning her back to the TV, she prepared to take a seat on the couch, but something of a most grotesque nature stopped her.
“Now over to you Sarah.”
“Haha, thank you Dan.”
…Thank you…Dan? Turning around quickly she forcefully hit the power switch with her fist “Fuck you Sarah!” she yelled. TV wasn’t for her this morning. Immediately after cussing at the ugly bitch, her stomach felt cold, like a bug had embedded itself into her and had just finished off her stomach, she knew he would soon move to her chest and hollow that out as well.

Well I'm releaved that you like it @.@ /passes out