Shatter You. ~ A Shatter Me AU ~

★ 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ☆

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I wake up to the same four walls, grey and dirty, like always. This will be the same view I'll die to. The same view I'll wake up to everyday for the rest of my life. It's quite sad, yet I no longer feel the need to be upset or angry about it - I have accepted my fate. No matter how shit it might be. No matter how much I want to change it, how much I want to rewrite my story, no matter what I would do to prove having this life.

It is what it is.

I open my journal, this book started with black lined pages, now filled so much that I have to write in the margins as I've used all the pages.

I write:

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I never once thought of the difference between imprisonment and isolation. Mainly because it's not a subject one would normally have to analyse.

Imprisonment is the work of confinement, being trapped in a liveable space, for a period of time - may it's duration be long or short.

Isolation, on the other hand, is the way of using someone's own mind to imprison themselves. Aloneness and loneliness are two different things, being alone can turn into loneliness, whereas if you're in isolation for too long, you go past that stage of self sense. You pass all rationalisation. Everything in the small space in which you are confined, becomes a crowded object. When you are so used to being without anything else, the presence of a simple chair can make you feel claustrophobic. Like the air has been sucked out of the room and you're left to choke to death.

They say that noise can make it hard to think, but, while that may be true, silence can make it hard to think about one thing. It's hard to hear yourself through all the voices in your head that you know don't exist, that you know can't hurt you, yet, I am scared of them. It is like someone else is talking to me, I hear it as if someone else is there, whispering into my ear, but they aren't. The voice is in my head. I make it up - yet I can't stop.

I want to stop, I hate it.

I hate this existence that I have to call my life.

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I snap the book shut. Making sure that it's hidden for when the guards come and use me as a punching bag.

I don't understand why they don't just kill me. It's not like my mother or father have any use for me to be kept alive - well, that is, other than to torture me. So maybe, yeah, they do have a reason behind it. They've always liked to torture me.

Maybe it's because Emma begged that they keep me alive. Or Aaron.

I don't know, but whatever the reason is, I want it to stop. I want them to finally put a bullet through my head. I want them to end my pitiful life and let me die. I want them to kill me.

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