Playtime

“I’m going to bed now! Goodnight!” I shouted down the stairs, leaving when I heard a chorus of replies. I walked into my room and silently closed the door. Tomorrow will be the perfect day! I opened my closet door and started sorting through different outfits. Does he like red? He seems like the kind of person who would like red! I pulled out a sleeveless pink dress with red and darker pink layers and a giant pink bow on its first layer. No! That would make it seem like I’m desperate! Maybe purple? I searched and searched until I found a light purple blouse that had frills and lace running down it from top to bottom. “Who on earth would wear this?” I asked aloud in disgust, “And where did it even come from?” I threw the tacky top across the room and continued my quest to find the perfect outfit, when it hit me. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that sooner? I dug through the extremely cramped closet and pulled out the dress. It was an almost simple pink dress with a thin, pink ribbon tied around the torso and teeny, tiny little frills at the bottom. It came with the other 29 expensive, Lolita styled dresses I got for Christmas. “Perfect!” I said to myself, hanging it up on my wardrobe door so I could see it the moment I wake up the next day. Tomorrow will be the perfect day!

I was awoken to the spine-chilling echoing of children laughing that seemed to be coming from everywhere about the room. I slowly rolled over onto my side, tightly closed my eyes, and wondered if I was actually hearing this or if this was all just a creepy dream.
The moonlight had dyed the room a gentle gray, making everything feel like a reverie as the laughing got louder and louder and louder until…
Maybe talking to my friends will help. I thought, grabbing my iPhone off my nightstand.
“Are… You… Awake?” I texted.
“Oh, I’m awake.” A girl’s cackle rang out, breaking through and silencing the laughter and making me jump.
“Who’s there?!?” I almost shouted, turning my phone outward and swinging my head wildly around. When nothing appeared, I let out a sigh of relief. I turned off my phone and was about to put it away when-
“I’m right here!” the girl’s voice echoed. Almost letting out a scream, I turned around and- a young, short haired child stood on her knees, her long, ragged nightgown spread out beneath her, while long, thin rivers of blood ran down her chalky, pale face and onto her dirty white clothing, making her completely jet black eyes that seemed to stare into my soul stand out drastically. The moment I saw her face I shuffled backwards, away from her until I bumped into the wall, though her giggling and my hyperventilating were much louder than the banging against the wall. The girl suddenly stopped her sinister giggling, and tilted her head, a psychotic look in her eyes. She poked one of her long, sharp fingernails, or more like claws, into her chin as her slightly parted lips grew into an extremely eerie smile. I opened my mouth to let out a shriek but before I could, my lips shut themselves, as if some force beyond my control was willing them to.
“No screaming please!” She said in her menacingly young, high pitched voice as she reached her hand out towards my face. A real eye was in the middle of her palm, letting out little tears of blood from the corner of its lids that dripped down her hands and on to the bed, slowly as molasses.
Then everything became dark. Then there was nothing.

I gradually came back to consciousness as I felt my cheek on the cold, wood floor and my legs under the blankets on my bed.
Oh, so it was a dream. I thought. The little girl’s menacing voice and face still lurked in my mind. I closed my eyes and tried to push myself back up on my bed using only my hands. The moment my hands made contact with the ground, I yelped as searing pain sped through my hands, skated in something wet and made me slide onto my chest into whatever was on the floor.
“Owie…” I whimpered, attempting to wipe whatever speckled my face in the slipping off only to screech at the same pain. I opened my eyes and felt my body grow stiff. The only thing I could see was fleshy red, covering what was supposed to be my hands. The only thing that was left of them was my last layer of skin, hard white things that popped out of my skin and bloody pentagrams sliced into my palms and the back of my hands, or at least what was left of them. No, this can’t be happening! Looking down, I realized that what I slipped in was a huge puddle of blood that was slathered all over the floor of my room, like how a child would finger-paint a floor. Bloody handprints, large gory splotches and scribbling’s of what looked like another language painted the walls while pieces of skin littered the room the way you would see in those gory, Japanese cartoons. What happened? I thought in shock, feeling the blood drain from my face. “Sapphire, dear, what are you screaming about?” My mother asked, entering the room as silently as a mouse would. I gasped “Mom, please don’t-” I was cut off by my mother’s screaming as she let out a single breath and fell backwards.

I guess I should introduce myself now. My name is Sapphire Stonington. I’m 15 years old and I’m being sent to a mental hospital for the skinning my own hands, which I DIDN’T DO. I mean, I know I didn’t do it! It was that demon child! Or at least, I think she’s a demon. Why else would there be pentagrams? And some human should know by now that a girl that lives with a filthy-rich family that can get anything she flipping wants would NOT I repeat NOT skin her own hands and smear her flesh and blood all over her bedroom walls! Isn’t it obvious to all these idiots that I didn’t do this? No matter how many times I tell them it was the devil they stare at me like I’m mad! Most of all, my life was almost perfect! I was ready to go on a date with a guy I liked since 2nd grade! Why would I do something so psychotic and acrimonious?

“Sapphire, why don’t you tell us why you’re here?” The counselor asked, bringing silence to the room and everyone’s attention to me. I kept my gaze on my hands, completely wrapped in white bandages that I could barely feel.
“Sapphire?”
I sighed and finally whispered “I was attacked by a demon.” The counselor rolled his eyes at me, the way someone would at a lunatic, and the other patients give me a weird look. That set me off.
“I’m being serious, why would I skin my own hands? I’m not crazy.” I said in an aggravated tone, knowing that no one would believe me. It stayed silent for a couple of minutes, everyone staring at me, some looking scared, probably not wanting to be in the same room as some insane freak, and some looking skeptical. Eventually, the other teens turned away and started talking to each other, making me a loner. I sighed and went back to staring at my hands.

“Um, can I have a steak instead?” I asked the lunch lady behind the counter, staring disgustingly at the gray sloppy stuff I’ve never seen before in my life. The other patients bursted out laughing at my question.
Don’t they find this stuff disgusting at all?
“Just go.” The lady said with a glare.
Oh great, someone hates me already. I left and sat at edge of the long, white lunch table, away from everyone else and began poking at the gray gooey matter that was collecting at the edge of the plate.
Are they trying to poison me?
“Hey.” The sound of a nasally voice made me jump, flicking some of that gray liquid onto the table in the process.
“Is it ok if I sit here?” A girl, maybe my age, was leaning across the table with her red tray beside her and a friendly look on her face. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt (seriously, how could she dress so plainly?) that contrasted greatly with her dark skin. Short, unnatural white and brown highlighted hair trimmed around her extremely rounded face.
“Um, sure.” I answered, avoiding her friendly face. She grinned and plopped down in her seat across from me, shoving a spoonful of whatever that gray slop was into her mouth, making me shrink away with a shudder.
“How could eat something so repulsive?” I asked, maybe a little too loudly for everyone started staring. She gave me a weird look, then asked
“Have you never seen mashed potatoes and gravy before?”
Wait, potatoes? I poked my spoon through the food, and noticed that the whole thing wasn’t gray and gooey.
Why would they make something as good as potatoes look so disgusting? I returned her weird look, and briskly shook my head. Then she started giggling, got up from her seat and sat down next to me.
“I can’t believe that!” she said through her annoying giggling, looking down at my clothes. I never really owned much “normal” clothing, not that I’d want to though. Seriously, most casual clothing has no fashion sense at all! I prefer dressier things! I was wearing a pair of light blue jeans and an extremely long, chic and dressy light blue top, nothing like the plain and boring clothing everyone else is wearing!
“Where did you get that top?” she asked, taking a sip of pop from her white foam cup.
“Oh, and I’m Dashanae. But call me Dasha. It’s nice to meet you.”
I smiled, and then said “Well nice to meet you. I had this outfit custom made.” At that moment, she spat out her drink, sending a clear, brown spray across the table.
“Custom, made?” An incredulous look painted her face. “Are you rich or something?”
My smile grew bigger after that.
“Of course I am!” She continued to stare at me, total surprise etched into her brown eyes.
Finally, she asked “Then why would you hurt yourself, if you can live such a happy life?”
I sighed “I didn’t hurt myself.” Dasha looked down at my still-bandaged hands with a serious look on her face. I looked away, with total irritation rippling beneath my scalp like waves.
Out of nowhere, I slowly started unwrapping my right hand.
I guess this is the only way I can prove it. I reasoned, feeling my hand grow lighter from taking off most of the heavy covering. I flinched a little when I started seeing a bit of the injury, but continued. I heard her gasp when she saw my how scarred up my hand actually was. My hand was completely covered in scabs, no, it was one complete scab, with the white of my bones standing out from everything else. Yet, what stood own most was the deeper colored of the pentagrams that were cut deeper into what was left of my skin. I traced the pentagram on my palm with one of my tightly bandaged fingers.
“My family is atheist. I was too until I woke up to this.” I told her, with a grave tone in my voice. She slowly and hesitantly grabbed my arm and held it up in front of her, obviously trying to take in what she was seeing.
I suddenly started hearing gasps and shuffling from the other end of the table as the other girls started to get up and sit near me, most likely wanting to see my hands. Another girl, who looked similar to Dasha, grabbed my arm away from her and held my hand in front of her face, making me wince from her hard grip.
“Why would you do this to yourself?” She practically almost shouted, making the boys at the other table turn and stare at us. Dasha pulled my arm away from the look-alike and started wrapping my hand back up.
“Diamond, you idiot, She didn’t do this! A demon did!” The moment I heard that, I felt a smile creep onto my face.
Someone believes me!
Diamond gave her a weird look, the same look the counselor gave me when I explained why I was here.
“Oh, now you believe the crazy girl?”
“I can tell she wouldn’t lie about something like this!” Dasha looked down and smiled at me. “She seems too nice…” She looked around at everyone else, who was giving her disapproving looks. She then she grinned a very cheesy grin and added “That and she’s rich.” Some girls started looking at me curiously, while the rest rolled their eyes and went back to eating. Another girl got up, this one very short and plump, and sat across from me. She introduced herself as Dariyan, or did she say Darien?
“What exactly happened to you anyways?” she asked, her light brown eyes fixed on my hands. When she asked this, some girls started looking up at me.
Maybe they want to listen too.
“Well, it all started when…”