━━━ Charisma.
❪ 𝗛𝗮𝘇𝗯𝗶𝗻 𝗛𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗹 ❫
One more story from
@Yuureid.
𝕬 ❯ 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿: copies or adaptations of this story are prohibited.
𝕬 ❯ 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: in broadcast + slow updates.
𝑽𝒆𝒆𝒔 × 𝑭𝒆𝒎! 𝑶𝒄
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━...
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"Can't sleep.
The clowns will eat me."
...
Aimy didn't know how many more years she would continue this, but she felt she had been punished enough.
For a long time, she had lost hope of seeing anything more than blur and stains. At some point, she thought that maybe, if she let her eyes rest for a complete decade, she might see some faint outline when she opened them again. She clung to the hope that, by continuing to avoid her problems as she had done until then, they would fade away and stop tormenting her at some turning point.
The last years of Aimy were solely based on hope, until finally, like anything else, she ceased to exist before her own eyes.
Then, she considered: if she couldn't see the problems, did it mean they didn't exist?
Stupid.
But after that reflection, she stopped worrying mostly about what she could or couldn't see. If she missed something important, she consoled herself with the idea that living for so many decades had led her to believe that nothing else could surprise her. That became her mood and motto; for a blind person, it's a pleasure not to be able to contemplate the decay of this world and its inhabitants.
Every morning, Aimy would wake up gasping after one of her daily nightmares. Her cloying and sugary breath thickened, forming a small cloud of desperation and exhaustion. Darkness and solitude, along with her worst memories, froze before her eyes.
For all her eternity in this hell.
Not a night passed without her waking up in different circumstances. Aimy would gaze into the darkness in silence, realizing that, compared to this true hell, the importance and gravity her mind attributed to her dreams turned to ashes. Nothing could be worse than this place, at least when viewed objectively.
To keep her mind disconnected from the persistent problems after several decades in hell, Aimy had to drain her energy with monotony and addictions. Although she cherished clarity, she guarded it little under her claws. She felt cursed, destined not to escape the fate entrusted to her by God and the saints of heaven, not even in her second life.
Her only wish was to live in the absolute tranquility that hell could offer, but the creatures around her insisted on getting on her nerves. She still felt the leather straps around her wrists. The phantom sensation still lingered.
Unconsciously, she stroked her fingers with her other hand, sliding the tip of her index finger along the thin edge of all her nails, pricking herself. Then she slid it across her palm, finally caressing her bony wrist. Subsequently, the same hand that secured her freedom paused, sliding down her abdomen until it touched a rough texture under her left rib. She pressed it and the pain brought back memories of extermination.
