✔ Run Baby Run ✖ punk hood au

xxxiv - confessions

c a l u m:

Screaming.

That's all I ever heard these days. They were high-pitched and accompanied by cries and heart shattering pleas. The screaming would rattle my ear drums and haunt me in my sleep. It was almost impossible to rest these days, not when the images of their piercing eyes kept invading my slumber. I always told myself to never look them in the eyes, but at the last moment, I'd open mine and be face to face with an image I'd never forget.

The girls were so young - some only 6 years old and it made me sick to my stomach. Their skin covered with soot and hair matted, while bruises and scrapes peppered their bodies. The girls would cling onto each other, holding each other's hands in fears of being separated. But their attempt to stay together was useless - not when cold-hearted monsters had the audacity to rip them apart.

More screaming.

The girls would get dragged across the ground, and despite the lack of nutrients in their bodies, they some how still had enough strength in them to fight. I've witnessed them get slapped, get kicked, and even shot in the back for not cooperating. Those would be images that could never be erased from my brain. But the images I would have to live with for the rest of my life, would be the ones of myself after every night.

I'd stare at my reflection through the mirror in the bathroom. Sometimes I'd hear my mother's footsteps outside of it and she'd knock. Not once, but twice, then ask me if I needed anything.

"I'm fine mum," I'd reply.

"Have a good night son," mum she'd respond, before sauntering away into her room. This was a routine that would continue for several nights.

I continued to stand before the mirror, the faucet running as hot water filtered into the sink. Steam wavered, fogging the mirror and fogging the sickly reflection that stared back at me. Deep hallowed eyes, messy hair, and a soul so tainted, there wasn't a light that could diminish the darkness that clouded over it.

As pissed off as I was at Michael for fleeing, I didn't blame him. He was a softie at heart; sensitive, and watching innocent, young girls get sold to disgusting men was something he couldn't handle. Sometimes I wonder how I've handled it for these last few weeks. I wanted to put an end to it so bad, but I wasn't sure how. Not when Fiora had the majority of Sydney wired under his control.

I splashed the hot water on my face, as if the scorching liquid would wash away the sin that was caked on my skin. I shut off the faucet, grabbing the towel hanging to the right of me and wiped the dripping water from my face. Unlocking the door to the bathroom, I trudged out and headed for my room where I kept the lights off. I let the darkness surround me, only the lamp posts and moon outside trickling through the blinds. I lied back down on the bed, closing my eyes and tried to think about happier things.

Gwen.

I was so in love with her. There was no doubt in my mind about that. Besides my mum and my sister, Gwen was the only motivation I needed to stay strong. Every moment I wanted to break down, give up, and run away, I thought about Gwen. Her smile, her sweet, floral scent, and even her laughter was all I needed to stay sane. I missed her dearly, but I couldn't let her see my like this. Thank God she was so studious, wanting to take a break so she could work on her academics. It was hard not being able to see her, but Gwen needed to stay in a place of absolute bliss.

I was the opposite of that.

I was so close to cracking, and it rattled my mind knowing that there were revolting men who weren't even fazed by it all. And the man, boy, who disgusted me the most was none other than golden boy Hemmings. He'd stand there, hands behind his back as he'd watch a line of girls get transported out of a truck and into the clutches of the Devil himself. He'd stand stationary, not even flinching as these young girls begged at his feet for help. He'd look straight into their pleading eyes and with no remorse, Luke fücking Hemmings would turn the other way.