Feel My Pain

Why?

"Why? Thats the biggest question, isn't it? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do those people who are hardened by thier tragedies then inflict the same pain onto others? Its simple really. We don't want to be alone."

      Darkness. I had never liked the dark. I suppose no child ever does with the thought of a monster hiding under their bed. My older brother once told me that demons live in the dark, waiting for little children to blow out their candle at night and drag them away into their dark world. Darkness was the sight that had greeted me when i opened my eyes. As a child, I had never woken up brefore dawn, I was always greeted by the first morning rays shining through my window.  The sunshine casting colors onto the floor beside me, as if lighting my way to a joyful morning. 

       That day however, I could not see the sun nor the moon peeking out of my curtains. In fact, I could see, nothing. I had begun to raise my head when I felt a hard surface stopping me from sitting up. 

        In lifting my hand, I came in contact to what felt like wood not a foot away from my face. In my confusion, I began to let my hands wander around my body, trying to feel the soft down of my mattress. To my horror, I had discovered that everywhere I touched my hands were met with solid wood. "Mama? Papa?" I had asked into the dark void. Panic starting to creep its way into my body. A sudden thought started to crawl over my skin and into my lungs, turning my breaths into desperate pants.

          My movements were halted when I felt a tugging sensation on my left wrist. With slow movements, I ran my hand along my arm. My fingers dancing over a thin object tied around my wrist. It felt rough, and covered in tiny bristles as I ran my hand back and forth. Tracing my hand along it, I realized it was string, after a while the string disappeared-into the wood above my head. With horrified breaths, I finally realized what had happened. The box, string, no light, and lack of fresh air.

         "Noooooo, Mama! Papa! Help me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs and rang the bell I know was on the other end of the string. "God please, I beg of you." I pleaded, "Hear my prayer and save your humble servant." I begged and pleaded with the God I had prayed to since I was a child. The same God, whom Mama told us would watch over us while we slept to ensure we would be free of harm.

" Lord, the God who saves me, Forgive me f-for my t-trespasses. Th-though I w-walk t-through the valley of d-death, I shall fear n-no evil..." My sobs overcome the words I uttered. Mama was wrong. She had said that good children who say their prayers at night and obeyed their elders would be protected from evil deeds. Alas, I, a girl, who followed the strict rules of her community, attended mass each and every Sunday, and obeyed her mother and father was thought to be dead and buried alive in a coffin. 

          I screamed as loud as my voice would allow me. Ringing the bell, I knew to be tied to the end of that string for all its worth. My hands, as if they had a mind of its own began to claw at the wood. I began to dig like a rabid animal fighting for its life. The air around me began to get thicker, and seemed to catch in my throat. I was so determined to escape and fear had overcome my ability to feel anything but panic, I had hardly noticed my hands beginning to bleed. After what seemed like hours in my dark prison, I could feel my body slow its movements. My breaths became shallower by the second, until they stopped all together.

          The next morning my mother and father had brought flowers to my grave. My mother, so overcome by her grief, almost missed the bell that overturned in the night. With a horrified scream, she began to dig with her bare hands at the freshly poured dirt. My father joined her in the digging and only stopped when they hit the hard wood of my coffin. 

          I will never forget the sound my mother made when she saw my lifeless body in the casket. My eyes had turned a sickly blue due to the suffocation that ended my short sixteen years. My white dress was soaked with the blood that had poured from my hands as I was trying to dig my way out of my hell. My father was so distraught that he almost missed the eight tiny ragged protrusions imbedded in the coffin. You see in trying to get out of my coffin I had not realized that my fingernails had been ripped out by the wood.

I stepped out of the mirror and walked towards the scared young girl huddled on the floor. Her weeping though delicious sounding for the first couple minutes now began to bore me. My bare feet padded softly on the tile floor of the bathroom.  

"You ask why I come for those who call my name? Why I inflict the same pain I felt for three agonizing hours?"

I halted my steps when I was directly in front of the girl, my blood covered hand grabbing a fist full of her long onyx hair making her cry out in fear.  "Because my sweet girl," I said pulling her towards the mirror where the silhouette of my coffin remained for eternity. The cries of my pervious victims began to grow louder and louder the closer I dragged the semmingly innocent girl  I held in my clutches. I turned her around towards me so she could see my face for the first time, and her back to the mirror. 

"I'm Bloody Mary." 

With one push she fell into the void, landing into the opened coffin, which shut swiftly behind her.