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Certain screams hijack your mind. Many sounds you can ignore and rationalize. Square them away neatly and go on with your day. But others take all of your thoughts and make them still.

She was very pale. Small, thin, bleach-blonde. Going about her day. It wasn't her scream that I'm thinking about. But maybe, it could've been. The thumping could've been her limbs thrown around the room. Her busy stare turned to fear and shock while it happens.

To be fair, I don't know how she talks. The pitch of her voice or her choice of words. But I hated what she represented to me then in that moment. Everything I wasn't and couldn't be. The control I don't have. Envy.

When do you go towards the noise? At what pitch, and after how many times? How far away does it sound when the clumps of hair are between your knuckles? When she feels like both a strip of leather and the back of your own hands?

I turned away from the scream when I heard it. I packed up my things and left. I'll go about my day, my life, and never know how it all played out.

Though the envy will taint every choice I make. Nothing will be pure again. I'll hunt for the gaze that I watched her steal. I'll tear open every bag and every drawer until her face is mine. I'll wear it with the scream carved out.