"Mom! Can you please help me get out? I think I'm stuck! I can't- I can't-"
She looks up from her caged wrists to her mom expecting to witness her mother flashing her brilliant smile at her daughter. What she didn't expect was her mom's blurry silhouette walking away from her.
"MOM! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE! MOM PLEASE! I PROMISE I'LL BE A GOOD GIRL! I PROMI-"
The gigantic iron door creaks shuts with a loud thud.
The little girl—vulnerable and scared— being dragged away by faceless men towards a dark hallway.
The girl continues screaming.
Thud
She's not screaming anymore. She's quiet. Her mouth is hung, wide open trying to call for someone, anyone, but she can't seem to get any voice out.
Her tear streaked red face looks around frantically in absolute horror. She can't see the men's faces— no, it's not that she can't see but that they don't have faces. Underneath the hood, there's nothing but complete darkness. This makes the girl look back and shout for her mom with all her might as the men drag her forward, but instead of her mother's silhouette, all she can see is raging fire in place of the huge iron gate.
Blaring alarm noise of an ambulance about 60 metres away, some kind of restraint on my throat restricting me from breathing, something tickling my back—
05:47 a.m.
The alarm clock reads.
YOU ARE READING
Feels Like You
PoetryI write stuff when I feel. And the purpose of exposing myself this way, anonymously, is to connect with people on a deeper level of understanding. Reach out to me if you need a listening buddy, or any other therapeutic support (includes being delu...
