Redamancy- The act of loving someone who loves you back, a love fully returned
MATURE- Wattpad likes to take away my tag so, it is mature if they turn it off again.
Syria Saxon Adara Noir is living as a young girl in France with no idea who she is...
My eyes peel open, and I glance to the window. I don't know how many days it has been now. It could be weeks. I am covered in my own filth, and the room has started to smell. The stabbing, aching pain has been all-consuming and all I can focus on.
I haven't had any human interaction since the nuns and Priest came into my room that night.
The religious chanting outside of my room never ends. Their words have started to blur together and I don't even think they are in a language I speak anymore.
I'm lucky that it has been raining in Paris. There are many leaks in my room that the nuns never cared to fix; luckily, there is one right over where I have been lying. That has been the only way that I have been able to consume water. The mold the water has created has made breathing more difficult. My stomach twists and stings from the ache for food; even when I am asleep, I ache for food.
I think they plan to leave me in here till I die. I heard someone say that they are surprised I'm not gone yet. I wish they would just do it quickly instead of leaving me in here, tortured by my thoughts. I feel my body going out again; it's like a house with rolling blackouts. You never know how long you will have electricity, how long you won't, or when the blackouts will end.
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I see red and green flashing strings of light.
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It has been another two weeks now. I have stopped feeling the deep, aching hunger anymore. I don't feel any emotions anymore.
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I see the back of a boy with deep red hair.
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It has been another week. I have started seeing faces on the walls. I know I am hallucinating, but knowing doesn't change anything. I dream of when the pain will end, the thoughts will end, and the chanting will end.
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"I do." "I do."
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I see a green leaf fall from a tree outside the window. It dances in the wind as it makes its way down to the ground. The chanting suddenly halts and screaming begins. I try to lift my head to get a better look at the door, but I have lost all strength. The door creaks open and I know I have died when I don't see a religious figure from the church, but a woman with gray hair pulled into a sleek bun, emerald velvet robes, and a black pointy hat comes in.
I try my hardest to keep my eyes focused on the elegant older woman, but my eyes become glassy as I cry for the first time since that night the Priest came into my room.
The emotional pain that I had stopped feeling a week ago starts to hit me in violent, thrashing, all-consuming waves. I try to scream and let out some of the different feelings that are dashing through my body, but my throat is so sore that only a silent reach for air comes out.
I feel my body start to black out again.
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What is your rare or very oddly specific favorite color? Mine is indicolite it is a light gray blue.
