Syn Carnahan thought that the only true darkness around her was in her own head, but after witnessing the horrific murder of her friend, she is pulled into a world that she wished she didn't belong in. A world where every dirty little secret is rev...
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white sheets and a fitted comforter set in cotton. A bed with poles and drapes. The windows barred over with grates and the door locked. An IV drip attached to my body and my side wrapped tight with a bind.
I don't remember falling asleep, the room or the lightness that coursed through my body. I don't remember the bed or the stitches or the bind, And to be honest I was almost angered that they kept me alive.
There was a reason they did, and I knew it. I knew there was something, there is always a reason. People like them, him, don't save people out of the goodness of his heart.
As if there is any goodness to begin with.
I was pacing now, my skin covered in goosebumps.
Naked. Still.
"Hello!" I screamed through the door, as I placed my hand on its thick wood. There wasn't an answer, not even the hint of movement from the other side.
My hands drew through my hair, and I blew out a breath.
Walls painted grey. Pictures of abstract nothingness centered on the wall.
I turned my gaze to the sheets, the nice pretty sheets that were worth too much for me to lay on. And before I knew it I was ripping them out of their tuck.
Using my teeth to tear it apart, my hands to rip shapes. A piece big enough I wrapped tightly around my chest and around my body until it mocked a dress.
there were no mirrors, but I knew I had bags under my eyes and blood coating my skin. Blood. Half mine, half not. It crusted and stained and itched.
My hands found their way into my hair until I was pulling on it, pacing in front of the door.
I couldn't stay in here. I can't. I can't.
There is no way out. No. Please.
"Let me the Fuck out of here." I screamed, tapping On the door.
Hitting it with my fists until they were red and raw. I could feel it, my sanity breaking. I felt like a mess, like everything was crashing down and staining. Staining and staining.
There was no release, no help. I needed something, anything.
They knew everything about me. Everything. Things I willed out of existence.
And Before I knew it I was ripping a picture off the wall and snapping its wooden frame. The splintered sword I hit against the doors handle over and over until the sound of metal was ringing in my ears.
