"And I could feel my mind slipping away from you and needing, craving to kill because that was all I had left. Your memories and the bracelet wasn't enough. Nothing was enough...So I threw myself into the ocean in hopes to get to the bottom. At tha...
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Jan Davidsz. de Heem, Festoon of Fruit and Flowers, 1600-1670.
"My life's a fucking trip It makes me sick I am so jaded and I hate it I'm faking it I try to find a greener shade To be the way To lead the way I need to wait..." - Oblivion (Creation) by Jhene Aiko.
Trigger Warning (TW): Explicit content on assault.
She was 8 blocks away from her home, when it happened. As Veronica walks along a path in one of the darkest parts of the woods, she hears a snap. She froze for too long, her legs being in the past while her mind is in the future screaming at her. Suddenly, she's dragged to the wet grass on the side of the path. Just a few moments before, she was staring at the only pay phone on the path,a few feet away before being taken. Now, two men hold her down as she scratches and screams, but her shrieking comes out hoarse due to never speaking.
It's okay, I'm here.
The fear comes like an old friend: the familiarity of her blood pounding in her ears and the hairs all over her skin standing. Her face is covered in dirt and tears. The animalistic urge to kill comes, but she can only defend herself with weak punches. They grab at her clothes and tear through her sweater.
It's okay, I'm here.
"Pleas-"
"Shut up," A sharp and low voice tells her as they try to clamp her mouth shut with their palm. Veronica bites the hand and the bones under her teeth break like sticks as blood drips into her mouth. The man shouts then briskly strikes the side of Veronica's head knocking her unconscious.
It's okay, I'm here.
Before she falls into the void of her mind, large, White hands shoot out from behind her attacker.
Look at me.
Veronica clings to the calls in her head.
"Look at me."
She runs along the shore with her adrenaline racing to her head. She's surrounded by fog and it blurs her vision. The sand under her feet is a ghastly turquoise color contrasting the nightfall skies. Veronica is stranded in a world of grays, blues, and greens and the moon a moss-colored sun, it's light casting upon Veronica's skin to make her gleam twilight. She feels the wind slapping at her face and tossing her hair as she runs along the shore, trying to get away from the sorrow of the beach as the voices follow her.
"Why don't you see me?"
It was so angry. She feels she's within the water, taking on the burden of it's resentment and hostility. Veronica whips her head around, trying to find the source of the voice that makes her bawl. Her spirit feels through the waves steep outrage, and what lays hopelessly in the water is it's pleading for warmth. It was wanting... yet afraid. All that was ahead of her was the smoke of her breath while the waves chase her.
