The person's hands moved mechanically, the blade glinting in the dim light. They cut into their own skin, the pain a familiar friend. But today, something was different. As they pressed the wound, watching the blood flow, a glimmer of realization dawned.
What am I doing?
The person's eyes widened in horror as they stared at their hands, the blade slipping from their grasp. The pain, once a comforting distraction, now felt like a scream in their mind.
"I can't take it anymore," the person whispered to themselves, the blade glinting in the dim light. "I need to feel something."
As they cut into their skin, a faint whisper seemed to echo through the room. "You'll never be free."
The person's eyes widened in horror as they stared at their hands, the blade slipping from their grasp. "What's happening to me?" they cried out.
The whisper grew louder, more urgent. "You'll never escape the darkness."
Suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of whispers, all echoing the same haunting phrase. The person's heart raced as they realized they weren't alone.
"Who's there?" they demanded, but there was no response.
The whispers grew louder, more insistent. "You'll never be free."
The person's eyes scanned the room frantically, but there was no one in sight. The whispers seemed to come from all around them, echoing off the walls.
"Stop it!" the person screamed, covering their ears. "Please, make it stop!"
But the whispers only grew louder, more urgent. "You'll never escape the darkness."
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the whispering stopped. The room was silent once more.
The person collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. They knew then that they had to confront the demon head-on. They couldn't keep running from it.
As the days passed, the girl struggled to understand why they were self-harming. She'd forget, then remember, and the cycle would repeat. But amidst the chaos, she found "solace"in their friends and family. Laughter and love became their temporary reprieve.
However, the darkness lingered, an unseen demon that only they could sense. To resist its pull, she'd shed blood, a twisted reminder that they were still alive.
One fateful day, the girl witnessed their mother, always a pillar of strength, weeping uncontrollably. In that moment, the truth hit them like a tidal wave: the demons they fought were born from their mother's trauma, inherited through generations.
The girl realized that their self-harm was a desperate attempt to cope with the darkness that had haunted their family for so long. With this newfound understanding, she began to confront the trauma, and the grip of the demon slowly loosened.
Though the journey ahead was long and arduous, the girl knew they weren't alone. With support from loved ones and a growing sense of self-awareness, she slowly began to heal, their blood no longer a symbol of pain, but of resilience.
The whispers faded away.....
