White Noise (ON HOLD)

Chapter 1: Dead or Alive

Sage

Something sharp pounds in my temple, shrieking at me to open my eyes. Something warm runs down my forehead, and I can only guess that it's blood, the thick, dark, sticky liquid I've met many times before. I sit up, no matter how much my head thumps in disagreement.

My hands are chafed raw in the metal of the chains that restrain, stealing the precious seconds minutes hours of life from me. My ankles are swollen from the amount of struggling I've done, the blood loss making my head swim with something only known as the darkness of unconsciousness.

I scream scream scream out, but no one hears me listens to me wants to listen to me. I feel like I need to drown out the voices in my head before they can destroy me from the inside out.

I will be gone any moment now. But I won't go mad. I won't go mad I won't go mad I won't I won't.

The loneliness drives me insane. It's infinite, a disease ready to infect anyone's mind. No one is safe, no one capable of escaping it's wrath. Not even me.

"Someone, please," I whisper, my voice dry and cracking from not using it in so long, "save me."

Tears drip down my cheeks, falling onto the concrete pavement under my bare feet. I fall, but my chains restrain me from getting too far, pulling back and ripping the soft, malleable skin at my hands. The drops of liquid shine in the silence, silver in the dark light.

No one can save me now.

Pain keeps my eyelids closed, and a black hole consumes me.

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I'm not afraid of death.

I'm not afraid of what will happen to me, or how I will die. I'm not afraid to finally drift away, to finally leave all the pain and desperation and grief and greed in this world, to finally find a safe place in my head.

Because I've killed before.

I've taken people's lives, taken their futures and their pasts. I don't know how to feel about it. I didn't know who they were, what they wanted to do, but someone somewhere must have loved them, held them in their arms, told them everything was going to be all right.

I just wanted to show others how it felt to be me, how it felt to disappear disappear disappear right out of existence.

I didn't cry, but I didn't laugh. I don't know what it feels to be human anymore; I've acted and been treated like a monster for so long I've begun to become one.

I can never go back.

Something squeaking on it's hinges awakes me from my daydream, forcing me to open my glued-shut eyes.

The darkness of the room and the cloak they're wearing clouds their face as they walk into the cold, damp concrete cell I've been locked in for weeks and months and years to no end.

They hold a white porcelain plate of something that can't be food, putting it down next to me. They don't unhook my wrists, which give me just enough space to reach the mush with my fingers.

The hooded figure leaves after standing around useless for a couple more long seconds, going through the opened iron bars and locking it behind themselves.

Hunger rips through my chest, through my being, but I can't bring myself to eat. To give in to their twisted game. I won't give in I can't give in I want to give in but I won't it isn't worth it it doesn't make sense I can't.

And, all too early, I give up trying to fight, trying to be strong. After not being able to eat anything for a week, after conceding so many other times, the animal in me is savage and ready for a meal, no matter what form it comes in.

My fingers dig into the slimy muck. I bring my hands to my lips, my stomach grateful to have something filling it for once. I can't stop once I've had a taste; it might not be a feast, but it will fill me.

I finish not five minutes later, leaning back against the unevenly stacked concrete bricks used to make the walls. I'm still not satisfied. I want more more more more. The people who give me this food, the ones who watch me and won't let me see their faces condemn me down to almost nothing. Every now and then, they will show the slightest bit of mercy with this sludge they call nutrition.

It angers me. How little they seem to care about the living, breathing human being caged up like I'm dangerous, like I'm deadly.

They're probably right.

I close my eyes, trying to hold in the emotion building up in my chest, trying to pound itself out of me. All I can do is shout shout shout out my fears and terrors. My fingers knot themselves into my hair, tangling the already dirty strands surrounding me, my face. Tears drop out of my eyes, dripping into my lap and falling into my locks, sobs shaking my small frame.

I look up for the slightest moment, focusing on the innocent, glossy dish sitting in front of me, waiting patiently to be taken away from me and my horrors.

I do the only thing that comes to mind.

I pick it up, the curve fitting my hand, and I throw it at the wall. It breaks right before me, the shards of tableware shattering and crumbling down in a splatter of pieces, some falling into my hair and others cutting small gashes down my arms.

No more tears come. No more threatening thoughts fill my head.

I have appeased the demons inside of me.

For now.

A/N: This is my first chapter! If you were wondering why there weren't commas between words that obviously needed them, it's because I wanted to show how broken down her mind was after listening to the demons inside of her head and following their orders. If you guys think that I should put in commas and change up some sentences, just let me know, please, and I'd be happy to! Love you all and I hope you like the next chapter!

<3 Lindsey