When will it end? This was the thought that rang through my head, pushing out and killing every single positive thought that came to me. All I knew was that screaming would just make it worse. So I dug my teeth into my bottom lip, letting blood drip down from it, having to embrace the pain was hard. But not as hard as the pain that stung my heart as I watched what was happening. I looked up at the face of my little sister, a whip in her hand. Blood dripping from her hand, My blood, My blood was the one trailing red drops down her arms. The whip in her hand sprayed my blood everywhere as it lashed my body time and time again. She feasts on screams, she'll tire out if I keep quiet. But I knew I couldnt keep quiet much longer. Each lash tearing out the skin on my back, slowly tearing down to the bone. I turned my head to look at my bleeding wrists, cuffed and chained to the wall above me, ripping the tender skin on my wrists making blood go from my forearm, to my elbow, then puddling on the floor below me. Ever since the incident this had become a daily routine. They would heal me each night to go through the same torture every morning. Then left me bleeding in that suffocating room, alone with my thoughts, and my tears. I have had no reason to use my name since I last saw him, so I have to continually remind myself of it. What was it again? The first letter is an E. Oh yes, Emmaline.
