adrianna

24

Adrianna pov

They kept hitting me. Kicking me. Punching me. For no other reason than to hear me scream but I wouldn't. I refused to lose. I whimpered but never said a word. Never shouted anything. I was silent.

It made them angry. They got bats and knives and whips and they used them all on me. But I don't say anything. What is a 5 year old meant to do in this situation?

They ordered me to rise. I tried. I tried but I couldn't. My leg was twisted. My arms ached to move. My eyes were swollen shut. It was an effort to get oxygen into my lungs.

I feel cold all the time now.

I feel empty, like there is nothing inside of me but this dark hole consuming me. It's so tempting to dive into it. Sometimes I peak into the hole and I can never see the bottom.

I like to believe I have a heart. I feel the beats vibrate within me, I feel the thumping around my skeleton. Science says I have one. But they say I'm made to be a monster.

Sometimes I can't help but to believe them. The things I've done are unforgivable. But I don't feel guilt.

But sometimes I think,

sometimes I wonder,

if I were a monster, I would of felt it by now?

I would feel angry and vengeful. I'd know bloodlust and blind rage but instead I feel a deep abyss within me.

I've been here for 2 years and I still dream about hope. I'm tired of thinking about it. I know there's no escape here. I'm trapped here.

I try to breathe but it's so hard. I try to move my head but where is it? Why is it so heavy? My eyes are stuck together.

I laugh. Hard. Loud.

I can't stop.

This is ridiculous.

I try to sit up and can't. My body is so heavy, so  heavy with blood and bone and skin. I want to cry.

I feel my body moving. Someone is dragging me. I try to open my lids but it takes too much energy.

All of a sudden I'm thrown back into a cell. My cell. I'm stuck between 4 concrete walls, covered in cracks and dried blood. My bed, which is made up of a broken mattress, being held up by a rusty metal frame, sits in the corner. I don't need to open my eyes to find it. I've been here long enough to know my way around the small room.

There's a small dresser next to my bed which has all my clothes in it. I have to have access to leave my 'room' to go to the bathroom.

The room I call my home. It's my safe zone. They don't come in here unless they're giving me food or orders.

My cell door opens and someone wearing latex gloves is touching and prodding me.

They've sent the doctor in. He injects me with a drug that speeds up the healing process.

***

It's been a few days of me sitting in my cell, healing. I can open my eyes easily now. I can breathe, I can move my arms and my leg is walkable.

My body is a canvas of blues, purples and reds. Such pretty colours, but on me, they're hideous. They're proof that I'm hurting. Proof that I'm weak and I hate it. I just want them to go away.

Someone unlocks my door. One of the guards come in with a note in their hand.

"Ivan has requested you in Block A asap."