Close Your Eyes And Count To Ten

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I grip the sides of the bed in pain, my finger nails threatening to tear the coarse fabric, the veins on my neck threatening to burst out as I clench my jaw.

That bastard
That mother fucking bastard

The same two lines becoming a repetitive mantra in my head. I'd been so fixated on the future that I hadn't realised the pain of the present, that he hadn't simply been running his fingers across the scars, but had been rubbing away at the skin, a failed effort to erase them.

The tears by now were running down my neck, edging close to the scene of destruction, threatening to rub salt into my wounds.

Shivers causing my body to convulse , the metal frame of the bed rattling in annoyance. My breathes becoming more rapid with each second. My fingers release the coarse fabric and move on to something softer.

Me.

I uncontrollably scratch away at my skin, the bile settling in my throat as I clamp my mouth shut. I feel the blood trickling down my thighs, but I don't stop. I won't stop. My hands wet, my nails filling up with flakes of my own skin. My arms still held down by metal arches, I can only concentrate the pain on one area. I'm trapped.

Trapped in this room
Trapped in this pathetic body
Trapped in my mind
Trapped in this shitty world







He knows what I am. I know what I am. I remember who I was.

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