The words didn’t flow. Did they ever flow? Were the words just wrong? Her spelling? Pronunciation? Her lack of intelligence?
‘No. Don’t think like that. Only he would say that to me.’
Rameara shivered as a ghostly shiver touched her shoulder and drifted to the soles of her cracked and blistered feet. The young girl continued to carve words into the wall, but she could never see them through the blinding darkness. Rameara sighed, biting her lip in anxiety. She wanted the words to be close to her.
That was the only thing she had left.
The girl took the sliver of glass, pressing it to her shaking arm. The captivating handwriting bore into her skin, fluids trailing on to the metallic floor as if fell from her arm. ‘P.’ The letter stared at her, daring Rameara to move on. The ‘P’ was soon given a companion as an ‘R’ was detailed and finished with a flare that curved the length of her arm, ending precariously at her wrist. Rameara cracked her bottom lip open as she finished writing the word.
Once the pain was lifted, only leaving a dull ache, she smiled. A loving smile, as if she was looking down at a young child. ‘Praise.’
Rameara was a religious person, but she always questioned her faith in trying times. He never listened to her, it seemed, until now. She was given a second chance at life after the incident.
The pretender licked the energon off her arm, staring at the pool beside her feet as she did so.
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