Prelude. Innocence With The Remberance Of Pain.

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Prelude  /        Innocence With The Remberance Of Pain

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Prelude  Innocence With The Remberance Of Pain.

For as long as she remembered a breath was taken—not a breath that was needed as the oxygen in your body began to fade into nothings no—it was a shuddering breath as the trapped air in their chest begin to flutter searching for an escape out of th...

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For as long as she remembered a breath was taken—not a breath that was needed as the oxygen in your body began to fade into nothings no—it was a shuddering breath as the trapped air in their chest begin to flutter searching for an escape out of the person being as the person held their breath thinking of innocence. It was something pondered as they picked at the hang nail that sat on the tip of their finger and brought to their mouth to pull off. Innocence, was it a forever thing that sticked with you as you grow older? Or was it a thing that faded as your youth is taken from you? It's a thing they always wondered as they stood there with blood coating their hands, aware the curious eyes that watched.

She was as small as eight and she wondered what was the red thing that coated his pale hands, was it paint?

Innocence.

         A thing the young girl carried as the devil stood by her.
           
                   Innocenc.

She didn't know; she didn't know the thing beside would be the one who took it.

                        Innocen——

Something now taken.

She was eleven and it was the beginning of the loss of innocents that filled Edna's being. It was dismantled with the root of growth that she craved as she was still the young naive age, she guessed that person was right. Over time the innocence is taken as you watch the people around you. And with it her brain grew with it, the words Papa. Food. Orderly. And White advanced to thinking the world as no longer innocent. Her mind grew a different point of view with the world as it still spun when she was sunken to her knees of the cold white tile begging for the innocence she used to have.

It left a mark.

A mark that was new.

See usually one would grow a mark that bleed and scared leaving a breed brown color that showed its pain but god seemed to have something else in mind as she laid in an old bed that creaked every time she moved.

Living Kills, Steve HarringtonWhere stories live. Discover now