𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ғɪғᴛʏ sɪx

the way I felt deranged writing this
oh, and I'm not confirming how long she was in the simulation for ;)

major suicide TW!!! 

without further adieu, I present to you the next chapter...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DEVI BHATT

I gasp, choking for air. I grip the edge of the bed, feeling my lungs seize and my entire body tremble.

None of it was real. He still hates me. Well, I fucking hate him too.

The lights explode and I shield my face from being hit. Another light explodes, then another, and another. My eyes are wide as all the lights go out and shouts arise from beyond the 'mirror'.

All this fucking time I was lying to him– he has the right to be angry, and so much fucking more– but this? He knew what he was doing with this.

Rage. Pure rage burns strong as a blue flame inside of me.

I stare directly at the mirror, grabbing the scalpel and needle beside me, which they used to inject me with god knows what. Ripping off the restraints which were loosely tying me to the bed, my entire body stills upon witnessing the last light exploding, electricity crackling and burning the walls black.

Power outage.

I never really liked this sort of darkness. But tonight, it wraps around me with every intent of strengthening me.

Adrenaline is racing through me, and I intend to use every last drop because I can feel the exhaustion of tonight slowly creeping into my limbs, like a jumpscare. I urge it away– I'm not giving in just yet. Silently I get off the bed, my feet treading carefully across the white tiled floor.

There's a thunder in my ears that is connected to the thumping organ in my chest.

A light-tipped smile spreads across my face in the dark as I hide behind the door, a weird relief fills me, mingling with my anger. I'm done playing along with their rules– it's my turn now to pick. And fuck if I'm going to let them know the rules.

They never told me the rules.

The sound of them readying their guns keeps me on my tiptoes. My heart races and my fingers curl tightly around the two sharp objects in my hands. I take a breath. My pupils dilate in the dark.

Explode, the voice in my head says.

The door slams open, and before it can crush me, I step out of the way, driving the sharp needle into the man's throat feeling his blood spraying all over me. I dig it in, calmly exhaling upon hearing him gargle, and drag it down his neck, cutting his airway open.

My ears pick up shouting. The tip of the needle breaks off, becoming lodged in his neck. My head shoots up, instinctively pulling this man around to use as a shield.

My eyes land on the gathering crowd of Russians in front of me. A wire explodes in the corner, fireworks of electricity making the room light up for a moment.

"Smotret'," I say, a gentle lilt in my voice. (Watch)

And they do, in the dark, as if my voice were one of a siren and I have bewitched them.

My hand squeezes around his ruined neck, his ruined life, digging my fingers into the holes I made inside of him. He cries in Russian. Pulling his head back until his eyes connect with mine, I watch him struggle in my hands and I exhale hard, watching the light leave his eyes.