Betrayed

Maria lay, curled up on her bed in a little cocoon of blankets, headphones perched upon her ears. The only light source in the room was the lit screen of her phone as it displayed her music choice: only songs about heartbreak. The blue light illuminated her soft features and reflected her grey skin. Her lip quivered as she held herself close, black streaks of mascara smudged on her round cheeks as she sniffled and smudged it some more with the back of her hand. What had Charlotte been thinking, then? Had Maria done something wrong? Something so wrong that it led to her girlfriend cheating on her? How long had it been going on? What had Charlotte said? Years? Weeks? Months? 

Sure, they’d had fights before. They had broken up and gotten back together so many times before that she felt she shouldn’t be as heartbroken as she was. And yet...neither of them had ever cheated. Not during the times they were together! Or at least...Maria hadn’t. So much for redemption, they had done. Maria had given up so many of her ways in favor of helping Charlotte’s goal come true. She’d given up drinking and smoking and ecstacy and-

Deep breaths...things will work out. They always do. But how? This wasn’t any regular screw up. Charlotte had betrayed her! Suddenly, a surge of warm wrath rose from her stomach and exited through her mouth in a frustrated cry as she threw the phone to the nearest wall, headphones ripping from her head and yanking her cotton-candy-blue hair in a painful pull. Her right fist clenched until her nails dug deep into her ski and cut a small opening, making her hiss in pain.

There was a furious ringing in the Mexican’s ears, her blood boiling. It had been so long since she last felt this amount of rage. She punched the wall so hard that the paint chipped and cracked, leaving a dent where her now bleeding knuckles hit. She seeped in a breath, barely feeling the stinging pain from her injuries. Micheal had been so kind to let her stay and she was already destroying things...she had to go somewhere else before she did worse than a punch to the wall.

Maria hadn’t been thinking when she ran out of the small apartment, hadn’t even picked up her things. She would be back for the night, most likely. So it didn’t matter. But there was still something she held tightly in her grip as she ran, bent at an angle so that the spear’s point would hit her target with force. But just what was she targeting? She wasn’t sure. All of Hell was but a blur as she let her feet take her, blinded fully by rage. She was seeing red. 

Red. A color so pronounced in this world and yet so tame in hers. Red. The color of blood and the fruit of sin and of many demons lurking about. Red. The color of sin and of wrath. Red. the color of Summer and Fall. It was such a contrast to all the blue in her. Blue. The color of water and the skies up above. Blue. The color of calm and of coolness. The color of winters so white and yet there was always the hint of blue. The color of ice, transparent, yet blue. 

Cotton blue hair began to bleed at the roots, mixing with the red of fury from her head and turning purple, fading down slowly. Soon it reached the heart of her eye, seeping deep into it and breaking it in pieces . It, too, turned purple. Purple. The color of sin, of lust. The color mixed from red passion and blue cold. Yes, lust. Lust for blood. Whose blood? Who cares? 

Close, close, close, the point of her spear drives into flesh. Whose flesh? She does not know. All she knows is that there is a satisfying squelch as she drives it in as far as it can go, turning the point in a painful circle to make sure the hole stays. The spear is pulled out forcibly. Maria lifts her arms above her head before driving the point right back down, pushing her weight to make it as painful as possible.

Hur, hurt, hurt. Hurt like I have. Die, die, die. Die as I have. Drive, drive, drive. Drive it in. Pain, pain, pain. Be in pain like me. 

The action is repeated again, and again, and again until Maria’s hands can no longer hold the spear properly. Until her hands and arms are light and heavy all at once and the spear felt like 300 lbs weights.  She couldn’t see. There was red. Red, red, red. Red all over. Weakly, she stepped over the corpse of the demon she had mutilated and dragged herself back to Micheal’s apartment. 

It wasn’t until she had washed away her rage that she realized there were bloody footprints and hand-prints she would have to clean up before he came back. With a sigh, she mixed up a solution her mother had taught her to use for stains like this. Laboriously, she scrubbed away everything until it looked brand new. She went as far as cleaning the footprints that led to the apartment so there would be no suspicion. She didn’t want Micheal to hate her.

And yet...her heart, so full of ire and hurt just a few hours ago had been replaced with a hard grayness of nothing. She felt no regret for what she did. She wasn’t happy about what she did, but there was no regret. She picked up her headphones and phone from the ground, putting them back into a working set before wrapping herself back up in a white blanket, reminiscent of what her hair had been before the breakup. And back she was. Right back to square one. 

Except for a few differences. Her phone no longer played heartbreak songs but rather lullabies and classical music. There were no black streaks. No crying. Only the new purple of her eyes and her hair and her heart. Nothing more. Nothing less.