It was a look people scarcely saw her wearing. She had that piercing gaze, furrowed eyebrows, and she was shaking as if she was soon to set the place on fire. Anger, it seems, was not her best features. She was known as the calm girl, nothing put her on edge, she was never provoked […]
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A Rush Blood To The Head

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It was a look people scarcely saw her wearing. She had that piercing gaze, furrowed eyebrows, and she was shaking as if she was soon to set the place on fire. Anger, it seems, was not her best features. She was known as the calm girl, nothing put her on edge, she was never provoked enough to pick up a fight, always smiled maliciously and walked away, but these days, her darker side took hold, and all she was keeping inside was on the verge of exploding.

She felt the heat of blood rush to her face painting it a shade of scarlet red, she was oblivious to why she was angry at that moment, she didn’t know what had triggered her first, she only knew that she had the power to destroy, to vandalize and she just felt the rush to let everything in her life go to ruins. She wasn’t someone who adopted change often, she liked the familiarity in her life, her daily routines, tasks and outings. But then at that particular moment, a hint of unfathomable folly was taking hold of her. She didn’t think whether she would like what she was about to do, if she would ever feel comfortable in her new life, leaving to shreds many people and things all at once, destroying a part of her, or many, all at the same time.

She wanted to turn her world to ashes, she was enjoying that mischievous grin on her face, with her own wicked hands, she was to burn the bridges, sink, rise, reconstruct. She was looking at nothing but the mere beauty of destruction, building the sandcastle then bring it down by flooding it from all sides, patiently enduring and meticulously crafting a house of cards only to blow on the top and watch it crumble in front of her, everything she so carefully planned was about to fall down, and she would just stand there and smile and marvel in the cinders in front of her.

Never in her life was she the builder, all work of maintenance was assigned to her, she was the fixer, the one who always sustained everything to stay in shape, holding everything and everyone together, it was in her character not to crack and break, to keep it all flawless and shining; breaking and letting go, she would soon notice, were new dark shadows lingering around her, creeping in and stepping to light. She was about to sob, thinking about what she was about to destroy for a moment, she wanted to stop, a moment later, she choked it back, breathed heavily, stood up, took a long side glance at the place, closed the door and never again looked back.

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