I sat there lying up against a wall weakly. I had no idea how long it had been since I was put in this hell hold. I was greasy all over my body and blood was stained to my face. I smelt horrible and all I wanted was a shower and food. I hadn’t eaten sense the bowl I had before Liz showed up at my house and released who she really was. I despised her and I wanted her dead. She had no right to do this to me, even if I had used her cousin and lied to her. She had to have some brain formality or something because she was being retarded. I was starving and dehydrated. All I could do was think.
“Psst,” I heard nearby. Confusion hit me like a brick. “Hello?” I asked, hoping maybe there was someone outside my confinement ready to rescue me. Or was I going crazy? “Look down!” I heard coming from below. I looked downward to my left. There was nothing there. “Look up?” The voice told me. I did, still there was nothing. “Ugh, you can’t see me. This works, I guess,” The voice continued. “So, I’m your conscience. I’m here to talk about what’s happened with you in your life recently.” I began curiously looking all over. “Help!” I screamed, hoping someone could hear me. I now think I am starting to go crazy. “Don’t bother, no one can help you nor hear you,” The voice said. “Excuse me?” I choked out. “Who or what are you?” I asked aloud. “I’m your conscience. I already stated this,” The voice repeated. I sighed heavily. “I must just be really tired or something,” I said to myself. I curled up in a ball in the small room of area, and closed my eyes. “You need to kill yourself,” My conscience said. I opened my eyes, “Excuse me?” My conscience repeated the line. “Give me a validated reason,” I demanded. The conscience voice turned from a sweet friendly voice, to a deep hypnotic voice. “Because, you believe you were raped, when you weren’t. You lied to Liz, when you think you didn’t. You used Jason, when you think you didn’t. Everything you think you didn’t do, you actually did. You remember those rumors? They’re all true. You’re a complete slut. You’re also a prostitute. You sold your body to Alexander. You did go for three guys at once and you did more stuff with others. You were the one to lead Alexander to the mysterious room in the club, not him forcing you. You wanted to believe it the other way around, because you felt bad for yourself that the only way you could work was by being a prostitute. And your parents? They died years ago. They died when you were five, and that’s why you imagine them beating you, because having parents is better than having none,” He finished up. I thought about it confusedly, “You’re lying. Stop it, knock it off!” I screamed. “Kill yourself,” The voice taunted. I put my hands over my ears, trying to stop from hearing the voice. It didn’t work; I could still hear the voice. “Kill yourself,” The voice continued to taunt me, and began to echo throughout my head. Tears flew like racecars down a track in a race, down my cheek. “Shut up! I’m not going to kill myself!” I yelled. “Kill yourself! Kill yourself!” The voice cheered, like if I were in a fight with someone and they were cheering for me. “I’m not going to kill myself,” I whispered softly, tearing hair out from my skull painfully. “Stop it,” I cried. “Do whatever they want, they’ll let you go,” It said all of a sudden. “What?” I asked curiously, scratching my arms forcefully, having skin buds under my nails. “If they demand something from you, then give it to them. Even if its sex,” The voice said. “You’re use to giving people sex, aren’t you?” The voice asked. “Considering you’re a prostitute and all.” I closed my eyes painfully, I couldn’t take it. I wish someone would knock me out. What was going on? “If you gave them what they want, they’ll let you go home…” The voice stated. My eyes rolled inside my head. “Stop it,” I said, my head in between my knees, still curled up. I built up strength and with a very quick movement, hit my head with all strength against the wall, making a splitting noise. Instantly, I passed out.
I stared at the white wall blankly. My skin was now breaking out in several places because my skin had grown so dry. I was bleeding in several places including my knees, my shins, legs, feet, arms, my stomach and back. The voice who says it’s my conscience, is still taunting me. Maybe it’s right. Maybe I should kill myself, but the question is how? I might die before I’m released. Suddenly, I noticed a very red small spot. It began to grow. Then around it became a beautiful deep blue. Around the blue, was a purple and around that was a green. It then grew from the whole room. Finally, what soon grew to be there was a black door with a silver handle. I stood up, my back hunched. It had been so long since I stood up, that it was unbelievably painful. I slowly raised my hand untrusting to what lay behind the door. I slowly twisted the handle and opened the door, into what was a regular room. There lied straight from the door, was a black bed, the walls were a deep blue and a purple couch next to the bed. I slowly stepped inside, unbelieving what I saw. I turned around to see a blue wall. There was no door that lay there. My eyes went wide in confusion. “What the hell?” I asked. “Am I actually seeing this?” I asked aloud. “What the hell?” I heard from behind me in the bed. I quickly turned around, my face bloodied and my clothes soaked from blood. In front of me, lay Alexander. “You,” I said with complete hatred.
He stared me deep in the eyes and crucially smiled. “Oh hey. You’re that girl from the club,” He smiled with evil in it. “Why did you rape me?” I asked, starting my groups of questions. He wasn’t going to do anything to me now, and if he tried it wouldn’t work. I was stronger and prepared now. “Because I did? I wanted to get some and the reaction I got from rubbing up against you meant I was going to have to force it because you weren’t going to be willing. And nobody else in the club was as pretty and young as you are,” He answered. “What’s your story? Did something happen to you when you were young to make you want to rape me?” I asked staring him deep down with isolation. “No, I just felt like it,” He shrugged. His answer made me hate him more. I jumped up on his bed, jumping onto him and gripped his throat with everything I had. “You ruined my life you piece of shit!” I yelled at him, gritting my teeth. “You deserve to die!” I said with every bit of hatred in my throat. I clasped my hands harder. But instead of choking, he was laughing. “Why aren’t you dying?” I yelled through my gritted teeth. “Because you’re weak,” He answered. He kicked my pelvis, throwing me off the bed and hitting my head against the corner of the floor and the wall. This was it, my revenge was now. I jumped back onto the bed with all quickness. I choked him with my left hand. I began punching him repeatedly and quickly with all I had. I hit him hard every single time, making blood splatter all over his sheets and my face. I was getting revenge on the one who I hated most and ruined my life most.
I realized that I continued to hit the white wall, no longer white. I stopped, realizing I had been hitting the wall the whole time. I had only imagined my revenge on Alexander. Blood had splattered from my hand all over the walls and the floor and my face. I looked at my hand, my knuckles completely bloody, blood trickling down my wrist and my arm, dripping onto my legs. I leaned up against the wall, painful tears strolling down my bruised and cut up face. I wiped the tears painfully away with my right arm. I couldn’t believe that it had been only my imagination. It was true, I was going crazy.
