Tick Tock (on hold)

Forget me.

Rolling black waves of anger and disbelief cascaded down on my body as darkness swallowed me whole, as I blacked out from Gryf and the world. From his crazy story about angels.

The drug that made me see wings curl around my head, it must have been drugs. That can't have had been real.

I passed out from shock. Simple as that.

I forgot everything when blackness took over. I forgot my fucked up parents that neglected me as a child growing up; I forgot my horrible way of living; I forgot all of the bullies that ever tortured me; I forgot my incredulious sight of wings unfurling above my head; and best of all, I forgot about me.

My full, deep red hair that cascaded down my back in lushious waves; my swirling blue eyes that changed color with different emotions, so they must be a stormy blue black with my rage; my slim figure with nice curves; my moody emotions that swirled through my mind; and the unexplicable that happened to me.

Everything.... Vanished.

I was surrounded by blackness. Icy, dank, piercing cold that gripped my body like a vise, holding me still, incapable of movement. My old scars renewed, and blood spurted. But I didn't mind. I needed it. The unforgiving, non-sugercoating I needed; not the fake pity I recieved when people heard of my past.

No one cared. Not one human was compassionate enough to show me a glimpse of acceptance. Maybe that was why I didn't want to believe what Gryf told me, because I couldn't handle another bullshit story, even with proof shoved towards me.

When my parents hit their one million dollar mark in that first month after I was gone, they avoided me like I was the plague. Like I was the reason they didn't reach their goal earlier. Like I was the reason they didn't try hard enough.

I smiled. A thin, pulled smile that tugged my lips to a feral grin; but one that twisted to a snarl. Teeth grinding, blood pooling on my cheeks and dribbling down my chin; I screamed silently.

I cursed and raged, twisting and fighting against the grip held against me. The cold, unforgiving nothingness was my past, and I fought like a wild animal that craved release. No noises were heard but the shrieks in my mind, endlessly crashing and bellowing the same gutteral screech.

No one cared. Never have they ever cared.

But now; as I fought less and less, and the grip on me grew tighter and tighter, wrapping around my throat and squeezing my limbs 'til the skin broke and bones snapped; I actually relaxed, and smiled for real.

This I could handle. The actual phyical pain. The one I could deal with. The one I could fix.

Not the pain that ripped my heart apart, bit by bit; not the pain of feeling like the self harm I inflicted was the only way to cope; not the pain of watching your parents walk away without a backwards glance or goodbye; not the pain of hearing names being thrown at me when I did nothing wrong.

I can handle this kind of pain.

But as the voices grew louder, I became agitated. Why would they not be gone? Why couldn't they leave me alone? How come I was their victim?

The chanting grew louded, and filled my head. Whore; Slut; Idiot; Waste of space; Bitch; Worthless- I screamed and desperately tried to throw my hands over my ears, but my past held me rigid. The words tumbled over and over in an endless waterfall, and transformed to a tidal wave of antidepressants and antipsycotic. It crashed around me and I was stuck in the riptide, struggling for the life I couldn't handle.

I forgot everything when blackness took over. I forgot my fucked up parents that neglected me as a child growing up; I forgot my horrible way of living; I forgot all of the bullies that ever tortured me; I forgot my incredulious sight of wings unfurling above my head; and best of all, I forgot about me.

This I could handle. The actual phyical pain. The one I could deal with. Not the pain that ripped my heart to shreds, feeling like the self harm I inflicted was the only way to cope; not the pain of watching your parents walk away without a backwards glance or goodbye; not the pain of hearing names being thrown at me when I did nothing wrong.

I screamed and desperately tried to throw my hands over my ears, but my past held me rigid and the words poured in, viscious and ripping. I screamed a bloodcurdling scream, but no noise echoed from my mouth. No air was driven into my lungs. No air was forced out.

I choked, and desperatly tried to grab at my throat; but the cold was there, keeping me still. Keeping me prisioner on my own mind of unconscioness. Immobile for the words to be spat at me, burned into my mind.

I closed my eyes tightly, and willed them away.

Just like it happened when I was a kid, they vanished. My memories of my bad upbringing was gone. No words, names, guestures... Nothing.

The bullies were forgotten. The bubbly, happy girl that I forced out at school, home, work, and every other public space burst out into tears, but quickly regained composer and smiled wide; hopeful no one saw her break.

No one did.

No one cared.

No one cared truly enough to drill me to remember the neglect and verbal abuse I had forgotten on purpose. The tears of pain were lied to be tears of joy. The scars were accidents, and the words became... Words.

No one remembered Ember. No. One. Cared.

And with that thought, I blacked out of conscienceness, and faded to absolutly nothing. The peacefull nothing I forced myself to enjoy, because you never know when that peace is gone.