𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐘 - ✔️

𝓜𝓘𝓝𝓐'𝓢 𝓓𝓘𝓐𝓡𝓨 ✎ - 002

╭──╯ . . . . .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . ╰──╮

❝i believe this cellar has become my home. i've made many friends with many of it's spiders.

i still think about mother sometimes, and why she'd betrayed me. i suppose you could say i'm 'getting over it'.

they say that forgiveness is the right path. i say that betrayal is the worst crime a person could commit.

is it my fault for being special?

i didn't do anything.

i didn't mean to hurt her.

why would she do this to me?

what have i done to deserve this?

i have no idea.

perhaps i am more evil than she ever was.

maybe it isn't really her at all.

signed, mina❞

I lay my last page down on the desk.

Is this hell my home? I wonder how long I've been down here.

It doesn't matter. I want out.

I've tried breaking down the cellar door. I've tried everything.

I want out.

I step down the hallway to meet one of the spiders, Beatrice. Her eggs seem to be healthy.

I hold my hand out for her skinny legs to crawl on. Her tiny legs sweep up my arm, it feels ticklish, but harmless.

The spider crawls back down my arm onto my hand. I let her back on the wall.

Down further, I stare back at that exposed pipe. If I could just pull it out, I could break the cellar door open. I could escape.

My thoughts are interrupted by another noise coming from deeper in the dungeon. It sounds like someone banging on the door.
No, not just banging, bashing, thumping against the door. Someone's trying to get through.

I see it crack open. Mother.

She's covered in blood from head to toe, scrwaming, "Let me in! Let me in!"

She looks scared. And desperate. I can smell her fear as if it were an actual physical smell.

I step back and she forces herself down into the cellar.

I speak below a whisper, "Mother?"

"No time to explain, Angela." She says breathlessly, as she wipes her face clean and tries to wipe the blood off her clothes.

"I'm not Angela anymore." I reply coldly.

She stares at me, eyes wide. "Angela..."

I shake my head, "No. Not anymore."

She reaches for my cold hand, "Angie..."

I pull it back and shove her injured body into the wall. She falls limp to the floor, trying to clasp onto the wall for assistance.

I watch emotionlessly as she crumbles over and groans, "Angela, stop it."

"No!" I protest, "You hurt me, mother. Left me here to die!"

She struggles to sit up.

"I love you." She says desperately.

I rip that pipe out of the wall, ignoring the spritz of water that now pours from the holes.

I turn to her, "No, you don't."

Her eyes fill with tears, "Yes, I do."
I smile mockingly, "What makes you so sure?"

She grabs my hands, "I know it's hard to accept, but you have a family. You're loved. And you're wanted."

"I hate you." I take the pipe to the side of her face, watching in awe as she spits a lot of blood.

It splatters onto my shirt.

I lean forward, pressing the end of the pipe against her forehead, "I hate you, mother."

Rapidly now, I begin crashing the pipe into her skull and face until she's unrecognizable.

Her limp, cold, bloody body twitches and she still gasps for air.

"I hope you burn in hell, mother." I hiss, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth.

Mother sobs, somehow still breathing after the beatings.

I clench my teeth tight, trying to keep from feeling pity.

I slam the pipe down once again on top of her. She cries out, a sound so foreign coming from her lips. She seems shocked, and terrified. She stares up at me, blood seeping out of her nose. I hear her choke out something. But I don't catch what.

I don't care.

"Ang- ela... please." She pleads. I laugh.
"Please."

She coughs violently, spraying droplets of blood all around her.

There's so much blood. It covers the floor. My boots are soaked in the crimson liquid.

I finish the job with a powerful blood to her face. She stops breathing. Her clenched fist falls open. Her eyes flutter and then stop moving.

The room is silent.