Iris || hs au

03

Her journal helped.

She didn't always know what to write about, but she always had the pen flowing at her fingertips.

Iris knew better than to let the voices keep her awake, and away from her writing, but this time, she couldn't help it.

They were worse, consuming her every thought.

So, she wrote about them.

Iris-day 776.

Not only are they whispering, they're talking. About me?

No.

About their lives, about their newly found concentration.

Their new project.

Me?

Yes.

I'm no longer new, though am I?

No.

Do I want to escape it?

Yes.

Do I think I will?

No.

Her body clenched, her fingers grasping the bleeding pen she just used moments ago.

"They were reading it," she whispered, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"They were reading it," she said louder, the voices in her head becoming softer.

"They were reading it!" She was angry, and she wanted them gone.

"Get out! Get.. Get out!" She screamed, her hands pulling at her long, black hair.

"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" She sobbed, collapsing to her knees, in the small room.

The floor was concrete, scraping at her knees, but he could care less; there's been demons eating her brain for two years and forty six days.