Y/n is a young girl/person that lives in the peculiar and hidden village in Romania ruled by mother Miranda. Growing up an outcast and being mostly hidden away because she was different. What happens when one day she decides the get away from the a...
You had to strain your arms just to wipe the blood that barricaded your vision. You looked around a bit to make sure you were not being attacked anymore. Confident that there was no threat, you slowly and carefully made your way to the stairs basement.
The moment you started moving multiple cracks and grinding sounds omitted from your clean snapped in half bones, causing a little grunt to slip past your lips. You continue your travel to your designated living space and the already oozing blood squirted out every time you move to suddenly. Your dark red, silver and black blood covered the floor like a raged, metallic blanket. You had to crawl as if you got blood anyway other than the floor you'd get another beating. As you crawled you felt your hand suddenly slip on your own blood as you lost your balance and your face smashed into the floor. Your nose poured out more blood but you being you, it didn't faze you one bit.
You had eventually made it to the old stair/ basement covered in blood and a few things still imbedded in your flesh. You shakily opened the door and crawled your way in, leaving the door open as you were the only one home. You crawled to the small bathroom that you had begged Richard & Liza for. They only agreed because they didn't want to see your face as much as possible from coming out to clean up in the spare bathroom, so they said yes but you ended up having to built it yourself.
You carelessly hobbled to your small bathroom and searched for one of the first aid kits you had in there. You then grab your favourite Swiss Army knife and made a small incision above any broken bone that were not already exposed.
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(This is what the knife looks like)
You then grabbed the strange healing liquid and pour it on all of the brakes while also holding one part of the bone to the other. You finished up rearranging your bones then you grabbed some rubbing alcohol and clean all the bleeding out and deep cuts. Then you place your hands around a metal rode that was stuck through your thigh and slowly pulled it out, the wet sound of it exiting your body and your heavy breathing being the only sounds in the room. You then did the same to the other objects stabbed in you, cleaned them and finally stitched them up.
You stood up now completely naked as you had to strip to get to a lot of your wounds. You slowly look at your lengthy mirror, you look at all the enormous scar littering along your entire skin surface and new wounds covered by bandages. You slowly run you fingertips along the extremely textured surface a tear holing on for dear life at the edge of your waterline before you blink it away. You then resisted to yourself with a melancholy expression "Richard is right, you are worthless peace of shit that should have just killed them-self by now....".
You then suddenly grab the Swiss army knife and slash at your wrists and thighs until you stop feeling as much all together. Blood spewed out everywhere but you just wiped the self made injuries and stitched them up like every other gash you had gotten or given yourself in this lifetime.
