(𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙡 𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙝𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

XXXI. TELL ME [2 of 2]

        my hopes were high, until i discovered it was on the ground and it seems like i was rising higher instead of hope itself. the clamorous uproars reached to my hearing and it caused my eardrums to bleed. they were all spitting chants directly at me. it dripped in venom on their tongue, i could almost taste the spite trickling. their mean words jammed into my mind that it became a cave of echoes. my head throbbed from the loud voices and i wished at least someone, anyone, god. it was then until i clicked into realization, that god didn't exist. nor my want for freedom or this to finish did exist.

      if god isn't real, then who will come to save me? have i spent my time trifling in insignificant prayers that he or she doesn't bother to hear me? are they really our lord and savior? if they are, then, what kind of person are they?

       there were men tightly wrapping their rough hands on my arms i was entirely sure that it would form bruises on my skin. the shoutings ceased but i remained listening to their hatred towards me. i felt calloused fingertips caressing under my chin which made me lift my head to see who the person was. it was a boy who i once called 'big brother'. his face was written in disgust and malice. the baby blue eyes i used to cherish dulled and glared at me. i could vividly see the flares of fire bursting on his pupil, waltzing in a fitful type of dance. it radiated a flame to deliver it to my empty stomach.

his hand took a trip to situate on my neck, his bony digits curling on my throat and he attempted to disable my breathing. i knew beforehand that i was about to get hung, so he applied much pressure on the back of my neck to allow my head to go through the big gap of the noose. i like to think that it's simply a necklace putting on me, and not some kind of device to end my life. as much as the current situation is severe, then isn't it better to remind myself that life used to be enjoyable? i want to reminisce the good days and the bad days i have experienced. i want to see my unknown parents.

parents...

that word was so foreign to me, more than the words bridgette taught a foreign language for me to learn. sister bridgette educated me with customs that came from other countries. religions that were practiced from other countries. traditions that were celebrated from other countries. although i am an orphan and the existence of my biological parents are anonymous, bridgette simply trained me to study about culture from other parts of the world because i wanted to know where my parents were. despite the reasoning will be the opposite, i'm using both my mouth and mind to find them. i always wondered why she taught me these things.

whether my results will end in dead or alive after i finish my research, i just wanted to know if they existed.

christian sent me a look of distaste, ❝ any last words, [your name] delores? ❞ i glimpsed at his foot, which was dangerously close to the stem of the stool i was standing on. he seemed to catch my impassive eyes that glued on his shoe, but he decided not to question about it. after all, i reckon he was thinking about my upcoming death. i wouldn't be surprised if i became a ghost and see him not mourning over my grave.

the wings of my lashes batted slowly at him, almost mockingly. a crafty grin grew on my face and i felt the adrenaline pulsing in my veins when i watched him widen his eyes, ❝ i do, actually, ❞ confidence started to bubble in my throat like a volcano threatening to erupt. i released out a cry, compared to a squawking crow, ❝ sisters of salem, i summon thee of your wicked beauties and let me dwell in your command! ❞ my throat was scratchy in midsentence, and i hoped to— no, i expected my phrase would unleash the witches.