The Plague Doctor

Alptraum

~ • ~

The days I lived were always cold.

Memories of my past are scarce, to none.

My father. My mother. My family.

I don't know them.

I don't think I ever will.

My earliest memories were begging.

Begging for any food. Water. Shelter.

I was met with the same gaze every time.

Disgust. Hatred. Malice.

Some took advantage of this weakness of mine. A little girl, with no way to defend herself.

Wrath. Lust. Sins I've grown to memorize.

Scars upon my entire body paint that story.

The etching of a chisel against my arms.

The brand of hot metal against my back.

I grew to accept that this was my role in life.

To be the therapeutic martyr for sinners.

The disposable.

The horrid.

I was numb. So numb.

So cold. So very cold.

That bag. The one with the red skull.

The one with the crystals in it.

I didn't want my death to be lonely.

I swallowed every crystal, and laid alone in the alley where I had been defiled once more.

...I didn't know pain like I thought I did.

Every inch— every centimeter of my body, felt like it was being ripped apart.

My veins, like barbed wire in my skin.

My eyes, overflowing with a fountain of red.

I wasn't cold anymore. I was on fire.

Burning in true hell. My every being, ripped away.

...Everything went black.

All I heard, was a man's voice.

"What has this world come to, where even a little girl can't go on without taking this horrible Plague?"

"She's experiencing hell itself."

He picked me up, holding me tight.

...His hands were soft. Caring.

"Can you do me one last favor, Charles?"