A Cup Full Of Milk Is All I'm Asking For

Location

Eyes. There were six of them, green, blue, brown, and lavender. Now, why were they hovering? The lights were too bright to cast shadows, so why was there a lack of bodies to these eyes? Now that I reminisce, I remember the lights weren’t that bright; in fact lights seemed to be none of essence here. The place itself was only white with eyes, and me of course. Who was I to them? A savior? A meal? I can’t recall, but I heard whispers implying that I was to be called Thirteen.

Walking was a prominent fear in that time, that… space. I was not sure if it was filled with nothing or everything was diminishing. Finally I let my foot land on solid emptiness just to reel back as the irises locked onto my motion. It did not occur to me then the voices belonged to the eyes even though the lack of a mouth stumped me when I learned later on.

Another step.

As if magnetic, the followed my feet slowly inspecting me from head to midsection to toe. They snaked around my figure and implied to each other glances of victory one should only see on a fully intact face. I could spot the pride in their corneas like the disgust in the eyes of those who I once knew but forgotten all the same.

“Not good enough.” A voice hissed.

Later I learned that the shrill high pitched voice belonged to the lavender set, but at the time I merely danced from one set to the other.

“Your waist should be thinner.” It continued. “Your eyes should be farther apart.”

It was nothing I had not already heard from some where, some place, some time. All of it was nothing that I didn’t already know, so I decided to move forward attempting to escape.

“I can see them, you know.” A new voice arose, more gruff by sound, but gentle in volume like a concerned father. “Those scars, where are they from? “

“Finger nails are too brittle.” The lavender pair continued.

“Did you do it to yourself?” The gruff voice flitted in.

My footsteps dragged mechanically, even tough I was panicking from the waist up to the roots of my once luscious brown mane.

“You really should speak when you are spoken to, you know.” A female nearly mono-toned projection rustled.

“Did you d o it yourself?” The gruff one beckoned again.

“No.” My stern voice mumbled.

“Liar!” screamed the shrill voice.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.” It mocked.

Now I was truly starting to get vexed. What do these eyes know about me anyway? I don’t even know why I’m here. It’s not like I need these imbeciles telling me the problems with myself.

“You’re over thinking it, Thirteen.” The mono-toned glare glazed over my thoughts. I lifted my foot trying to to get through the stark white back and foreground. The eyes followed me with each step.

“Where are you going?” The gruff voice called. The green eyes were the farthest away, so naturally that must have been the beholder of the fathering voice.

“Away from you all.” I retorted. Another step echoed wildly beyond the space.

“You act like you can Thirteen.” The lavender pupils floated up to meet my gaze as it spoke. “Look around you, no horizon, no sky above. You are trapped.”

Suddenly the pair shifted changing color and shape, transforming into a mirror image of me. They copied my every move and quality. The ever expanding white changed to black, then grey, then a hint of blue. The others grew near and my own eyes were the only body part I could manage to control. Everything froze and then drained. It was all white space again. A new voice spoke.

“We will restore your memory.”

“Memory? What memory?” I could only see what was in front of the lingering parts of me.

What seemed like years passed and I saw new creatures, a tree, a raven, a girl from a different era than I, and a guy with a n anger problem. They all worked for the person who controlled the eyes, and me; the devil who turned me into my own negativity. They worked for Miss Faye, given identities and a position to fill. They called me a hairpin. A hairpin. I didn’t have a name, or a voice, just a judging feature, just portals into something only viewable once reflected upon. Then one say I saw a girl who was a little older than what I was. I could see her problem, almost the same as mine. Her name was Jess, and she never forgot that.

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