Will Ariana cope with new changes or will she completely break?
***
16 year old Ariana has never had an easy life. Coping with depression at a young age when she didn't even know what it meant was definitely not on her bucket list.
So when her mot...
"My dreams and worst Nightmares have the same People in there" -Philippos ________________________ Song Name: Golden Age Artist(s): Rosie Darling _________________________ !!! WARNING: ABUSE. PLEASE SKIP IF TRIGGERED OR UNCOMFORTABLE!! READ THE SUMMARY AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER IF YOU SKIPPED THE CHAPTER!!
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!!!TW ABUSE!!!
"So, what tool should be use next?" Jack asked a nine-year-old me, looking at his tools. Of course, I knew it was a rhetorical question which I, unfortunately, learned the hard way. And besides, it's not like I can say anything seeing as there is a gag on my mouth. Jack looked at me, then back at his tool. "Let's go for your and my favorite, knives," he said menacingly, making me squirm on the chair to which I was still tied to.
It has been an entire year since I was kidnapped. Police might even think I am dead. I hope Mom doesn't though.
But I am slowly losing hope.
I suddenly felt a painful prick on my right though making me scream through the gag, tears leaking through my face like Nigari Falls. He then looked at me and stabbed me right below my new wound before saying "You deserve this."
He then went to my left thigh and stabbed there making me scream more, "You know why?" He asked making me nod weakly, getting dizzy due to the blood loss.
"Let me remind you," he said in my ear – making me shiver in fear– while dropping his knife.
"You are weak." Punch.
"You are ugly." Punch.
"You are pathetic." Punch.
"You are worthless." Punch.
"Please stop," I whimpered but he didn't listen at all.
"And a waste of space." Punch.
He then called a medic to clean me up so he could have more fun in the future as I started to pass out due to pain and blood loss.
God, please help me
*** !!WARNING OF A MELTDOWN!!
I woke up in cold sweats, not being able to breathe, an incoming panic attack coming along, tears clouding my vision.
'He's right' my subconscious said, and I continued having trouble breathing. 'You're weak, pathetic, a waste of space.'
