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Behind Rebel Lines <33


K i w ii C r e a m__xx
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Blue: the purest color. I am the color of emotions, sadness, and innocence. I am the sky and the sea, and of the soft, solemn eyes that stare into your soul. I have been pushed aside, stepped on, and forgotten. Through the blue film over my eyes, I can see the trust amongst my friends and loved ones and the anger in those who do not like me. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, those sad, tired blue eyes. I have an ache in my heart as I stare into Chilly’s enormous brown eyes for what I know will be the last time. I am petrified; I will never see her again. She trusts me innocently. I bite my tongue and hold back the tears. I feel a hand on my shoulder and a voice by my side whispers, “We need to go. Say goodbye…”
As I shake, Chilly presses her nose into my hand, where there are several carrots resting. I swallow past the lump in my throat as she wraps her lips around them, and I turn away from her, sadness enveloping my being. I am in shock; I do not understand why she must be taken from me. As I walk away I can feel her gaze on my back, and I can feel her sense of hopelessness as I leave.
Red: the color of fury. I am the rage, the passion, and the anger. I have lost my patience, lost my temper, and lost my sanity. Through the red film over my eyes I can see the frustration in my best friends’ hearts, the irritation in my family members’ gazes, and the smug glares of those who show their hatred. I feel remorse and frustration, a chilling glare resting in my eyes, those silent, angry eyes. A knot has formed in the pit of my stomach as I gaze for the final time at the eyes of the horse I had come to love so dearly. I am furious; I will never hear her whinny again. She hates me because she does not understand. I bite my tongue to hold back the harsh words winding their way to my tongue. I want nothing more than to scream at her, tell her to stop staring at me with those big, trusting brown orbs. With a firm grip on my shoulder, my best friend mumbles, “We need to go. Say goodbye.”
My hands are trembling as I hold a carrot up to her lips, and Chilly pulls them easily out of my hand and into her mouth. This is the hardest thing I have ever done. I turn away from her, raging at the people who did not care enough to take the precautions to prevent this. It was preventable, I know. I am enraged; I know who is to blame in this losing battle. As I walk away, I feel her gaze on my back, and can almost hear the echo of her whispering, “I trusted you and you abandoned me.”
Through her eyes, though, I am nothing more than perfect. I stare at my reflection in pools of coffee brown. In Chilly’s steady gaze, I can see my gentle affection and my quiet, adoring attention. Through Chilly’s eyes, I am beautiful. I am kind, loyal, and all that is good about humanity. She does not see hatred in me; she does not feel hatred for me. She does not understand why she hurts, nor does she comprehend why I hurt. Chilly wants nothing more than to make me happy, to fix whatever is wrong. She does not care whether I am selfish or stubborn, if I cry or yell or scream. She is unbiased, with no film over her eyes to distort her vision. She sees me for who I am, the good and the bad, and watches as I walk away with a broken heart, never to see her again.




 
 
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