The sounds of piercing, high pitched screams filled the air
It was everywhere
Yet I could hear nothing
Nothing at all
I am alone; I look in every crevice my eyes could examine
I am in a room of white, white is what filled my eyes, the room was dimly lit
Suddenly comes a door, I turn towards it and begin to run but I am halted
Unable to take another step, the smell of rusting blood fills the air
Down I look, chained and for I am the one who possesses the rusting blood that fills my nostrils
The chain goes nowhere but yet it does
I cannot see the end of it but it lies in the direction opposed to the door
In the same direction I see a person
I begin to walk towards them
The burgundy that comes from my veins fills the vacancy of this white wasteland
I feel weak, barely able to move
Crashing to the ground
Covered in the burgundy jelly that comes from the body I possess
Still moving forward to this person I saw
Unable to stop myself
I crawl towards the place where they stood
I am then face to face with them
They seem familiar but I could hardly recognize them
I stand to get a better view
Then I come to the realization this person I am staring at is I
Only not a reflection but a person itself
It is like a shadow but has features that match my own
I go to touch it, it is as cold as night, retains the chill of a thousand cold, broken, dead hearts
It radiates shudders as if falling into a frozen lake in the dead of winter
This thing is I, but it is not
I place my hand, still full of blood
Blood that is rushing down my arm, dripping from the tips of my fingers
Its heart could not find a beat
Then I look at its face
With mine the expression of shock
With it's a devilish smirk
Then I look at the ground, coming up from the blood that riddles the ground
A blade, I grip it with my free hand I take the arm of my shadow and make a horizontal incision
Burning blood erupts the air, from both the shadow and I we bleed
The shadow smiles knowing I cannot kill it
I realize now my lip is bleeding, I taste the blood
The taste of iron is high, almost completely metallic, and seems to be seasoned of salt
I have my hand clasped to one end of the silver blade stained red, containing no grip
I stare down at it, running my thumb against it to see its sharpness
I touch the foreigner's neck
In the eyes of the shadow showed confusion
As fast as I could I was cutting foreigner's throat
Knowing that I was the foreigner that needed to be harmed
Ready to die I gave the shadow a smirk
Dropping the blade, it fell in the blood, never giving a sound
I could now hear, see all the white was gone
There I lay in my room
With my shadow dying beside me
Feeling sorry for myself but not a shred for it
Sorry for the one to find us
But ready to accept my fate
Ready to leave this place
Ready to feel nothing and be at peace
Feeling content with myself, feeling numb
What was once white is turning to black
At peace I shall now be, happy
Not as a bother, disappointment, or nascence to the world
