Helplessly I lay, my sobs almost choking me; tears stinging my cheeks. My nose was bleeding furiously and wrists swollen in varying shades of red, throbbing in the agony of the aftermath. The residue of affliction would eventually subside to a lesser pain, these next hours would bear my suffering.
After resting for a considerate amount of time and the urgent droplets of crimson having stopped falling from my nose, I sat with boredom swirling my thoughts. Yes, now I sit till food arrived or sleep consumes me.
My eyes traveled their familiar sights.
Assorted grime of dust and dirt decorated my legs, having been deprived of water. I longed to clean the dirt and blood of my body properly, rid myself of the seemingly constant feeling of my kidnapper's hands groping and abusing my body.
My stomach grumbled in harsh complaint from lack of sustenance, and I noted my ribs were still clearly visible and torso bruised severely. I also longed for the taste of bread in my mouth and water trickling down my throat, the feeling of satisfaction in my stomach when I swallowed. I hoped I would be fed soon, it would help with healing my wounds of the present, and those remaining from past abuse.
And in my boredom, the familiar thoughts of captivity returned.
I should be in school, I should have friends, I should be with my family, I should be happy. But I'm not, and I never will be
Tears once again pooled in my lower eyelids and I let one fall to the ground, splashing silently as it hit the concrete beneath me.
There was no way to escape, I had tried everything, believe me.
Deep emotions I had withheld from expressing and releasing for what felt like thousands of tortured years suddenly overcame me, and I felt a physical surge of boiling hot anger possess me. Adrenaline in unfathomable sudden aggression healed my body of its pain and only gave way to hope. I scrambled to my feet, rage energizing my weakened body as I ignored my injuries and relentlessly banged my fists on the rusted door childishly but yet in great power and force.
I didn't know how this outburst had been sourced.
I didn't know what this meant.
At the time I simply needed to let my emotions out.
YOU ARE READING
Splattered Paint - Dan Howell
FanfictionDarcy Thompson, kidnapped for four years. The painter, orphan, with memories haunting her from the back of her mind. But when she finally snaps, paint will splatter, hearts will be broken and a new life ruined. Can a young man and his friend with ma...
