fifteen

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warning: mature content

hurt me and tell me you're mine
i don't know why but i like it

October 18, 2003
|myra dalton|

Somewhere in the dark lurked the monsters that Myra Dalton feared most. She feared them as they crept behind her, around her, and consumed her. A deep laugh resonated throughout the hall, providing little comfort.

At least she wasn't alone.

Perhaps it was someone who would offer help, and so she called for help.

Mama always warned her that men will disguise themselves as knights in shining armor; That the very sword they used to protect her would be used against her.

Still, Myra put on her brave little face and followed the low voice that called to her.

The corridors were covered with chipping paint, cracks that ran along the walls like the veins running throughout her. Blood pumped through her at a steady pace, despite the terrifying thoughts that raced through her mind and demanded her attention.

She traced the wall with her fingertips and allowed her feet to carry her forward into the darkness.

"I'm not scared," Myra spoke, her voice tiny.

She realized, at that moment, that she wasn't quite herself. The paintings on the wall were hung higher. The ceiling was farther. Every step that she took was smaller.

Myra caught a glimpse of her reflection in the floor-length mirror. Her gaze dropped to her tattered shoes and the light pink dress that she wore matched the ribbons in her braids.

"I'm not scared."

An arm stretched towards her from the shadows, like a beacon. Myra paused in her steps and her shoulders relaxed. In the distance, she heard wailing. Gut-wrenching cries that made everything around her hazy.

Mama.

"Will you help me?" She asked the figure that stood a few feet away. "Will you help mama?"

It beckoned to her.

She approached the hand with caution and slipped her own into the open palm.

For a moment, she marveled over how cold it felt.

"Will you help?"

Myra whimpered as the grip tightened around her small palm. She can't fight it. She can't escape it.

It pulls her in and she falls.

She falls into the darkness, a void that she feared. She falls until the pitch black suffocates her, filling her lungs and depriving her from her sacred voice.

She can't see.

She can't scream.

"Myra!"

The young woman awoke with a gasp, having only seconds to reel herself from the horrid nightmare. Myra pushed aside her blanket, finding the back of her neck warm and the hair sticking to her damp skin. She blinked and Sierra came into her blurry view.

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