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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Peace was too much to ask for. Too much to want. The Silence was burning, and the darkness just rot.
In the darkness it felt as if hands were scraping down every inch of my skin. Sharp claws deep inside my head, resting for the weak spots in my mental shields as they willed me to break and shatter into a million pieces.
It felt like chains were still shackled to my hands, my chest. Like I could still feel the way they rubbed my skin raw and bleeding, as if the now healing wounds were not a reminder already.
The dead man's whispers chilling my skin, goosebumps appearing as if he was sitting beside me on couch, cursing me. Laughing.
Elias had made good on his words that we wouldn't be staying where we were. That it wasn't safe. And he whisked me away to a penthouse high above a city. "My home." He had said to me, as I had took in the open space, that wasn't at all the likeness of his darkened room filled with black furniture at the base. But modern. It didn't look truly lived in however, like he never stayed here. like home was something he didn't stay at, like a home was something he didn't think he needed.
Much time had past since then, darkness now kissing the sky and as quickly as he brought us here, he disappeared and left, leaving me at my own whims.
windows covered the entirety of one wall of the living room, open night sky just a head turn away as I sat perched and unwavering on the couch. But I couldn't see the freedom of the night. I didn't want to.
Peace was not enough even now.
My hand almost shook, as I brushed my hair to one side. Through the dark the circles of ripped skin on my wrists caught my view. the long healing knife mark dragging up my forearm.
Blood. Blood just stained. I felt like it was covering me, despite having scrubbed my skin raw despite never feeling truly clean.
You never really realize how much blood someone actually has in them until it's spills on the floor, on your hands.
Humans are full of blood. Of life. To see it all just spilt out, was something that couldn't be Unseen.
he wasn't the first person I have killed.
not the first time I did what I had to. There was no blood the second time, only death. The first time, it was everywhere.
The first time is the worst.
I couldn't decide if that was true.
The first, I didn't feel anything. I didn't feel anything. But now, I feel something. Not remorse or guilt, but I couldn't get that sound of his death out of my head.
Or how I'd crushed his throat with the chains, and he just died.
I hadn't even noticed Elias was now standing Meters away from me, I hadn't even heard him come in. Hasn't heard the elevator or the sound of his footsteps.
