It was the same morning as any other for her. Closed blinds allowed no light to enter the unknown room, entrapping it in complete darkness. Cold air flowed in from the vents scattered across her room as she snuggled deeply into the blanket’s warmth, for it was the only warmth she had felt for years. On her bed, small piles of clothes and wrappers fell onto the floor with her every move, connecting with the other heaps of clothes on the floor that filled her room, similar to an aquarium, where she was the lone fish that entertained its captive.
Time passed slowly as she awoke, intoxicating herself with the strong smell of marijuana that always lingered in her room.
She slowly opened her eyes as her dark, sea-like irises gazed upon her dirty room. Although much could not be seen from the darkness that enveloped the room.
Sitting up from her bed, she moved her heavy blankets away as the warmth slowly left them from the ever-intrusive assault of the cold breeze.
On her covers that gripped onto her mattress, multiple deep, dark blood stains could be seen dispersed from each other. However, they weren’t recent; the bloodstains looked old and faded out, more than likely from multiple rounds in a washer as it attempted to wash away the past mistakes. Yet, no matter how much she washed it, they still remained, serving as a reminder and message to her.
With her left hand, she slowly placed it on top of one of the multiple bloodstains before picking it up and staring at her bandaged wrist. Under the bandages, years of everlasting torture riddled her wrist with never-ending scars that would always remain.
She forcefully averted her gaze from it as she calmed down, cold sweat drying off her forehead. She stood up and walked out of the room hurriedly, her mind spinning heavily.
Outside her room, she walked down a hallway with multiple dusty family portraits before turning left and entering a bathroom. Inside, she vomited into the toilet, feeding it her insides.
For seconds, she continuously vomited, all before she had emptied her stomach, leaving nothing to feed the toilet with.
She stood next to the toilet before collapsing, sitting there for seconds before she stood up, flushed the toilet, and washed her hands diligently.
Then, she stepped out of the bathroom and continued traversing the hallway before she found herself in a warped living room connected with the dining room and kitchen, all dirty.
Various clothes and other miscellaneous items made themselves at home in her living room, becoming a part of the family.
Everything was disorganized to the point where one could not even imagine how it once was.
Not bothered by any of it, she continued to walk before sitting on the couch, filled with clothes and light trash.
There, she sat and nodded off, nearly falling asleep before hearing her rumbling stomach.
It was only natural; after all, she bird-fed the toilet all she ate, leaving none for herself. This was a weekly occurrence that would happen often. It had gone on for so long that her father stopped caring, only buying extra food to replenish what she lost. Because of this, she was unbelievably skinny, her appearance like that of a skeleton covered with skin. The lounge wear she was wearing was large on her body because of this. She wore a baggy t-shirt coupled with shorts that sat slightly above the knee.
For days, she would only wear clothes similar to these, as she remained inside for multiple days. She had only left that one day because of an argument she had with her father. It was only a coincidence that she met Francisco, a very minimal one, and it was unlikely they would meet again.
The only thing she remembers about Francisco now is his dark brown eyes, which reminded her of her previous boyfriend.
The person she had believed to be the love of her life. Which, in reality, became only fleeting memories that she would dream of every night if she slept at all.
But it was during those dreams that she was the most happy. All she wished for was to be with him once again, but he left her years ago. All because of her growing addiction. And for who she was currently, it was unlikely he would want to be with her, let alone see her again. She was now unrecognizable to who she once was, both in the physical sense and mental.
Her rumbling stomach continued to cry as her instincts pounded her head, yelling for her to eat. Yet she had no appetite to eat. However, her instincts eventually ruled over her as she stood and walked into the dirty, unorganized kitchen, fixing herself something to eat.
Her father was currently away working, so she was left alone, needing to fend for herself, which was a stupid decision. Left to her own devices, who knew if she would even make it through the day? But her father had enough. It had been years of this constant behavior with no improvement. Because of this, he broke off other relationships to care for her.
At this point, though, he had enough. Now, he only wishes for her to be out of his life. Even though it was cruel, he still wanted the best for her, so he is sending her away. He was hoping and praying that they could make her better. For he could do nothing except witness her become even more broken.
Maybe, at least now, she can become better. An actual functioning human was his hope; however, he did not have much of it left.
He worked and worked to the point of death, for nothing to improve within her as she clung to memories.
She walked towards the dining room table and sat down. She then placed the bowl of cereal she had prepared down and slowly shoved mouthfuls of it into her mouth. Without it, she would most definitely faint. So, even though she had no appetite, she still ate. If only to stay alive one more second.
She also clung to hope. She wholeheartedly hoped to be with him again. That was what kept her alive now. But who knew how much longer that could keep her in the physical? With every passing day, she lost more and more of that hope. It was only a matter of time before it left her completely.
With each mouthful of cereal she ate, two contrasting feelings fought in her body. The first told her to continue, so the body could absorb all it could before it was poured into the toilet. While the other persuaded her to stop, to end it all. Maybe she could cut herself once again, coincidentally going too deep, causing her to bleed out. Or, she could go into the disordered garage and grab firm, uncomfortable ropes, and accidentally tie them to her neck before they somehow ended up on the ceiling fan. All before she took a random misstep and fell.
In the end, her instinct to continue won, but not by a large degree.
She continued to provide sustenance to her body before she finished the meal she had prepared.
Then, she stood up and took it to a sink full of dishes and take-out containers, adding her bowl to the pile.
Seconds later, she found herself on the couch again, passing the time by with dead eyes.
Various channels flickered on the TV as her phone remained deadly silent next to her. After multiple channel changes, she finally stopped at a documentary about wildlife. She then spent the next thirty minutes sitting, attentively watching the documentary, before an ad break commenced on the screen.
She mindlessly watched before her eyes wandered to a corner of the room.
There, covered in thick dust, sat a piano that had not been used in years. The last time was when she had her now ex-boyfriend over for dinner, with her parents present. Staring at the old piano, she reminisced about that incredible day.
It was a nicely prepared dinner where she introduced him to them. Just by his college major and looks, they were both impressed at how good of a catch their daughter made. On that day, after they all sat down, eating their specially made Italian dinner, her mother commented on their relationship.
“Jack… I would not have assumed that you’d take a child as scatterbrained as mine to be yours.”
Surprised by the comment, he stopped eating before swallowing everything remaining in his mouth. After, he responded, perplexed.
“Mrs. Abram, I’m sorry, but… Yasmine is an absolutely brilliant-minded person.
“Don’t flatter her; she’ll become full of herself if you do.”
Jack was left speechless; no matter what he said, it would sound disrespectful or cocky. But Yasmine came to his rescue.
“Stop, Mother; we’re trying to have a nice dinner.
Mrs. Abram stared at her for a moment before digging deeper.
“Hmph! Do not try and speak to me as though I am your equal; how ungrateful.”
Yasmine did not respond, choosing to pull her head down and brace for the oncoming assault.
“See! This is the exact reason why I wanted to name her something more intellectual. I hoped to bring at least some intelligence into her head.”
She then looked to her left to see Mr. Abram eating the food she with a grin, completely tuning out her talk.
Seeing this, Mrs. Abram began an attack on him as well.
“I would have named her something better, but this tub of lard decided for me! Choosing Yasmine, an absolutely meaningless name.”
Mr. Abram was pushed back into reality and attempted to defend himself.
“Honey, calm down; we have company with us today.”
Mrs. Abram looked back at Jack before calming down.
“Well, I suppose you’re correct.”
Mr. Abram sighed softly before speaking to Yasmine and Jack.
Now, let us continue eating this delicious meal.”
Jack smiled before nodding and continuing to eat. All four ate as an awkward atmosphere enveloped the clean dining room. Jack, feeling it even more than the others, attempted to lighten the mood. He looked around the room before noticing a spotless antique piano in the corner of the room. After a bit of contemplation, he inquired about it.
“Yasmine… Do you know how to play the piano?”
Yasmine looked up at him before looking towards the piano.
“Yeah, I stopped taking lessons though, so I’m a little rusty.”
Before Mrs. Abram could interrupt their conversation, Jack inquired further.
“Really!? Could you play me something!”Yasmine noticed the gleam in his eyes in anticipation. Although she had not played in a while, she still knew some pieces that she had taken an interest in.
Whether they would sit well with Jack, she did not know. They had only recently begun their relationship, after all.
She stood up and walked towards the piano in her dress. Passing her clean living room, she arrived at the corner of the room before sitting down on the piano stool. The earrings she was wearing glistened as she moved, and in Jack’s eyes, she looked like the perfect human when sitting on that stool. Her shoulder-level blonde hair shined ever so beautifully in his eyes as dark blue eyes focused on the piano. And in her dress, he was amazed and attracted to her all over again.
With her soft hand, she moved down to the keys, getting into position. Seconds passed before she began pressing them softly yet firmly. Her hand moved with elegance as each note that played proceeded the last. A beautiful melody filled the room as she continued playing the piece. The song she was playing was something she enjoyed very deeply. Each note played moved her in a way no other piece could. It was a piece that spoke to her and comforted her.
Jack stared in awe as he grew more attracted to her. From the sidelines, he cheered and wooed her on. Hearing this, she grew ever more confident and began playing the piece more naturally.
Towards the end, he cheered her on even more. When it did end, he exclaimed in praise as he went towards her to hug her.
“That was incredible, Yasmine!! It was the best thing I’ve ever heard!!”
Smiling from ear to ear, she loved the praise he was giving her. She had longed for the love he gave, and she took it all without question. Hearing his steps, she turned and also got into a hugging position. Yet when she did turn, no one was there.
She was back in the messy house she had grown accustomed to as the documentary finally began again. Anxiously, she turned to the dining room table to see the mess she had just eaten with.
Her father, mother, and especially Jack, were gone.
This was obvious, though. Everything was part of her memory, having happened in the past. Jack was also in the past, gone, scrubbed from the present.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she sat on the piano stool before, from the kitchen door, Mr. Abram spoke.
“That was a nice song, honey.”
With tears falling from her eyes, she turned to see her exhausted father, back from a hard day of work. He then placed a bag of fast food on the dining room table before coming closer.
“What is it called?”
He spoke in a soft voice, attempting not to harm her.”
“It’s called… Once upon a time.”
He looked at her with his brown eyes before responding.
“It was beautiful.”
Even more tears fell from her dark blue eyes before she looked up at him and spoke.
“Yeah… it was.”
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