In America circa '17, Violet's your ordinary 20yo teen. With long jet black hair and plump soft lips, she's a stunner. So it isn't a surprise why guys pin for her so desperately. However, Violet's been through so much. She's tolerated abuse from her...
I wake like I'm hooked up the mains. No sleepiness, no slow warming up. Within seconds of realizing I was unconscious I am on my feet, eyes wide, dreams not just forgotten but erased. I am drinking in the feedback of all my senses. Aside from my own noisy breath drawing in gasps of oxygen, there is nothing to be heard and the woods are simply too dark to see much at all. Black trunks against an almost black backdrop doesn't make for much too see and my imagination begins to supply horrors to fill the void. Bit by bit, my nightmare begins to play by itself , an orchestra of my deepest darkest fears brought to life. After a minute or two the sound of running water permeates the inky blanket. I am near a brook. A brook would hide my scent, cover my tracks. I want to run, but it is with faltering steps and raised hands I move on, like a sick game of "blind man's bluff." I want to silence my feet, but all I do is step on twigs and kick stones.
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I want to stand but for the moment my legs have given way to gravity, shaky, weak. What is this feeling? One way to describe it is that of helplessness, a feeling of extreme numbness.
Who am I? better yet, what am i doing in this black forest?
Without a conscious thought, a choice, my body does what any must to survive. Every muscle is stronger than it should ever be and there is no mental restraint on the force I can use. Unidentifiable liquid pours out on the grass in front of me. The retching goes on for so long I loose track of time and then I realize what the stench is. This isn't water at all, it's a preservative of some kind. What did they make me drink? I blink, blurriness fading, surroundings more crisp. The coldness of the air is more apparent, stealing the warmth given to me by the foul concoction that has swept over the contaminated grass. I want to use all my senses, get a feel for whatever this is, but the foul odor dominates the air and the chill freezes my skin and the little brain power I can muster. I find myself retching the last remnants in my body and grabbing onto my knees as i knelt down. I need to find my way out, my brain sending me into overdrive.
As i ran... i slipped and fell on a crumbled piece of what seems to be a large broken-down grave site. Out in the meadow ahead, the ghost was more silent than the grave it arose from, staring with heavy lidded eyes and a slack mouth. Her cheekbones accentuated the skeletal look and in her gaze my mind was robbed of emotion. Instead of running, or screaming I stood more still than the mossy statue in the heart of the graveyard and just as cold, if not colder. She beckoned with fingers that rapidly faded to only a suggestion of form. I passed each stone without taking account of the path until I stood in a place that was unrecognizable. She became more solid again, but this time her skin bore many silver scars, thick and jagged. I began to think new things, "I want to stay here with her, forever."
The thought became a desire and my insides lit with an intensity to make it possible. My body crumpled to the dirt, leaves and mud met the side of my face and my knees curled up like an unborn. It was then I heard someone shout my name, over and over. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing would come. He was frantic, yelling, scared. The ghost started to fade into the dark backdrop, her sinister face disappearing with every numbing second that goes by. I hear the rough voice again, and a pressure starts to form on my elbows, as if someone's grabbing them and shaking me like a rag doll.
