I suppose it's dawn now.
My words flow mindlessly on this crumpled paper. Now, I can avoid looking at the calligraphy honed with my Moteh's scoldings. I know no lines, neither can my sight. Everything is blurry.
I'm hoping all these letters collapse on each other so none could understand w̶h̶o̶ what I am turning into.
I've been kept at a dungeon. They serve no candles here. A cot with hard jute matress, and cigarettes butts tucked inside it. There is a small stall the other way, or that's what I think. Sometimes, I find water there. It stinks like..burnt flesh left for decaying.
I wish my words formed better sentences. Wish I can spill the last seven days in a block of bricks bubbling black algae. But I'm tired today. They made me drink si-shei-sh I cant remember.
I'm tired.
I want to die. I want to die. I want to die.
I̶ ̶b̶e̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶S̶u̶n̶ please take me away.
YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐘
RomanceA grave sinner, she is. Broken by bones, broken to the hilt, and broken by her own. A prophecy far less spoken of, Arlane Florentine is bound by oath to seek revenge for what was stolen from her. Deprived of a life she believed in since childhood...
