Desolation Row

“Jane?”

A soft voice spoke quietly behind her as she gazed lovingly into the eyes of the man she loved; the moonlight shining down through her window illuminated his gorgeous smile from the pictures she had scattered and nailed to deep brown wood of her wardrobe. She spun round, startled as she laughed half heartedly, offering her social worker a shaky smile. “For gods sake D you frightened the life out of me” She said quietly, placing her hand to her chest as she nervously stood in the centre of her room, trying to hide what was behind her clothes.

“Jane you should really be asleep, you’ve got a busy day to....what are you up to?” Denise asked, her eyes narrowing behind her long black curls; studying the frail girl before her. She always knew when she was up to something, it was always the look of guilt that seemed to dance in her eyes when she knew she was caught out; her biggest flaw. She craned her neck, trying to look over Jane’s shoulder. Suddenly Jane walked towards her, dropping her hands to her sides as they curled into fists, her face twisting into an angry expression as she locked eyes with her social worker. “I think you should leave” she snarled, staring her deep brown eyes; almost challenging her. Denise sighed, brushing a strand of long blonde hair out of Jane’s face. She could still see, despite her outwardly fearful stance, the look of guilt which pained her eyes.

She moved past her. Jane remained frozen to the spot as fear began to course through her veins. She closed her eyes, chewing her lip as she silently pleaded her social worker not to look in the wardrobe. She knew what would happen next. One quick phone call to Dr Luxemburg and she would be back in therapy quicker than she could say no. She listened as Denise pulled back her clothes, the screech of the hangers against the metal bar put her teeth on edge. A loud gasp suddenly escaped Denise’s lips, snapping Jane back to life. She quickly turned; pushing Denise aside and quickly shut the doors, her back pressed firmly against them as she fearfully stared at the concerned face of her social worker.

“Jane I thought you were over this. This isn’t healthy for you” Denise cried, placing her hand to her forehead as she struggled to look at Jane. Jane’s eyes fell to the floor; she knew she had annoyed her. But she didn’t understand. Nobody ever understood her except him. “I need him” She muttered, hiding her face amongst the darkness.

Denise stared at her, a baffled expression spread across her face. She shook her head, pushing Jane aside and threw open the wardrobe doors. Jane tumbled to the floor, watching in horror as her social worker ripped the pictures from the wood. “NO! Please D you can’t! You can’t take them away from me again!” Jane screamed, trying to snatch the pictures back from Denise’s grip. She shook her off, her strong hand gripped tighter around the pictures as she quickly stormed out of the room. She listened as Jane ran after her, screaming at her, begging her to stop. She ignored her, slamming the door behind her and locked it; pressing her back against the door as Jane struggled to escape.

Jane’s pale hands tugged vigorously as the cold metal of the door handle, pulling and pushing it as she begged Denise to let her out. “Please D I need them! Let me out of here please! Please” She screamed, banging her fists against the chipped wood of the bedroom door. She kick out at it, a sharp pain ran up her leg as she stumbled back in pain. “You bitch! I hate you! I fucking hate you!” She shouted, tears trailing down her cheeks as she collapsed into the cold sheets of her bed, sobbing into her pillow. She turned her head to face herwardrobe; small shards of paper still clinging to the wood. She cried harder, muffling her sobs into her pillow. She reached underneath her pillow, her fingertips brushing against a small piece of metal. She pulled it out, small, bloodied razorblade shone in the moonlight, reflecting back her tear stained face. She sighed, calming herself down as she pulled up the white hem of her nightdress, revealing her pale blue underwear and soft pale skin. The deep healing scars incrested upon her flesh made her wince as she closed her eyes; she had never liked them.

A tear trailed down her cheek as she pushed the razorblade deep into her skin, quietly gasping out as she dragged it down her skin. Blood began to ooze from the cut, spilling down her legs and onto her hands as she pushed it harder onto her skin. She smiled to herself, a twisted smile of a mad woman as she began to cut herself again. “He does love me” She whispered into the darkness.

“He will always love me”

Notes

Just a little update- I know I haven't done that in a while x
sorry for taking so long, I have some personal things to deal with at the moment :/ x

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