| | It was her game, everyone was playing ||
A dead yet undead girl, most believe that she is dead, killed by her own blood yet nobody saw that something inside her was still burning, a fire. A fire that was so hot that it was made to kill her murde...
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TW: Graphic Content
I was feeling numb, physically. While my mental state was in chaos, a whole fucking chaos. During the day I have been receiving torture from my Family or what I thought was my family and during the night my mind is in disarray, from finding faults within myself to blaming them for my state to thinking about revenge. Everything is whole fucking chaos.
It's been a month since my family has kept me in this cell, a month since I have been enduring this torture, and a month since my family believed some random person over a member of the family. 30 days since I have abode all the slaps, kicks, burns, punches, stabs and all the other things from my blood. I knew it was gonna end soon, they will either kill me or threw me away because I could never be the same.
I knew that, they knew that. I'll never be the same with them. I have turned numb from physical pain because even when they send a doctor to tend my wounds, he does it roughly and by increasing the pain by pouring alcohol and not giving any Lidocaine, to numb the pain. He doesn't do anything, just tend my wounds so that I could stay alive and not die of blood loss.
All this has made me numb to physical pain and turned my Pain tolerance high, it still isn't to the point I don't feel anything but it's safe to say I don't cry when I have broken ribs or when I'm stabbed. So it's high for a certain level. And I have a feeling it's gonna be more by the end of this. While the night they leave me alone to go to sleep, and sometimes Zeno doesn't go to sleep, he comes here in the middle of the night and continues his torture. Since these walls are soundproof, nobody knows about this other than me. And I know that even if they knew, they wouldn't care about it.
You see Zeno has anger issues, like a lot of them so whenever something happens to him he comes down here and starts beating me like a fucking punching bag. It hurts me a lot that my family is doing these unspeakable things to me, I can't wish this on my enemy yet it's happening to me. And at this point, I have left the thought of even making them hear my side. I tried, I tried for the first week that they would hear me out but they never did. Rather they increased the torture whenever I spoke about it.
So I went silent, literally mute. I haven't spoken a word to them for 2 weeks. They haven't heard from me other than my grunts or the sound of pain which is messed up because they don't even care about it. I am now regretting my decision to ever come back home from that kidnapping because at least I was safe there. At least I was fed there, not tortured and whoever made that place knew me instead of my family who don't know me and think a 10-year-old would reveal their so-called family secrets.
In the last month, I have concluded that my family is not who I thought they were, quite surprising, not really. I always knew something was up with them, with all those secret talks they used to go for, all the men with guns guarding our mansion or following us around all over. It wasn't like we were fucking president of Spain to need this much security, which concluded in one thing, they were involved in such dangerous business.
