Chapter .IV. BUTTERFLYS

758 21 39
                                    


" We are killers, we kill part of ourselves to survive, but what version of ourselves do we have left? Is it our best? Or worse?"

" We are killers, we kill part of ourselves to survive, but what version of ourselves do we have left? Is it our best? Or worse?"

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

J U L I E T      V A L E N T I N E

Thunder reverberated through the ancient attic room, casting a somber atmosphere. Darkness enveloped me, punctuated only by intermittent flashes of lighting.

I found myself alone trapped with my tormenting thoughts and my hollow heart that only decayed with each passing moment.

I sat on an old- worn-off mattress, as I always did. Its age caused it to develop a hint of mold and a nasty smell, that I had grown accustomed to.

Just be obedient Juliet, I thought to myself. Hoping that if I complied faster time will pass by.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as I waited, minutes dragging on like hours, and hours stretching out into what felt like days.

Perhaps he had forgotten about me. Maybe they would finally leave me at peace.

Then, the piercing screech of the Attic room filled the silence.

I plead to God, seeking mercy for the fragments of my shattered soul. However, God abandoned me long ago, leaving me to endure my suffering.

Interrupting my thoughts, a familiar voice sent shivers down my spine. My hands trembled, and my whole body became paralyzed in fear.

Millions of scenarios filled my head, each one worse than the last.

"Hello, doll," his voice was like honey sinfully beautiful, a siren call that could lure anyone in if they didn't know better.

I didn't know better until it was too late.

Closing my eyes tightly, I attempted to summon the courage to run, to shout, to do something! But deep down, I knew it was hopeless.

No one would help me. Why would they?

I felt his touch, his hands moving higher and higher up to my thighs. Still, I didn't do anything to stop him.

I had tried running before, shouting before. But it only made things worse. After that night, I vowed never to try again.

His touch on my skin was repulsive and his breath on the nape of my neck only intensified my distress.

I squeezed my eyes shut even harder as if somehow it could prevent the inevitable. Tears streamed down my face, and I glanced up at the ceiling, purposely avoiding looking at his face.

Shattered PiecesWhere stories live. Discover now