Violets And Scarlets

• Jasmine Walter, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2016

It is the colour of the veins under her pale translucent skin.
It is the colour below her eyes when she’s been deprived of sleep; or when the sadness of the world makes it’s home in the delicate skin.
It is the colour of the bruise along the expanse of her neck, a place that is scorched with unforgettable memories, engraved in her skin forever.
It is the colour of her lips when he kisses her too hard, the weight behind it leaning down on her like a pile of rocks.
It is the colour of her breath when he leaves in the night, and with him, the last bit of warmth.
It is the colour of her fingertips when she traces the marks and the lasting impression imbedded in her velvet skin.
It is the colour of his poison that is gradually turning the vibrancy of her heart to the same shade as his soul, a shade that is cold and lifeless.
It is the colour of her eyes when she realises the toxic nature of the man she thought she loved.
It is the colour of her blood when she rips herself from the hold that found permanent comfort around her throat.
It is the colour that surrounds her until she finds her way back to the girl she desperately missed. Herself.
When she runs, the colour changes into warmer shades, ones that remind her of her flowing dress on the dance floor all those years ago, ones that remind her of her favourite cherry lipstick, ones that remind her of the beating heart inside the cavity of her chest.
It’s still there. Her heart is still pounding alongside her weakened lungs, still thumping against her cracked ribs, and it makes her cheeks flush with the colour of joy and love.
She briefly sees the dark shade of his screams, his futile attempt to win her back spreading the colours of thunder and lightning across the eroding pavement.
With trembling breaths she holds onto the colour of blood running through her veins, effectively blocking out the piercing noise behind her.
And for once, she does not look back.