Unconscious

Unconscious

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WpMetadataReadMaduroEm andamento<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima atualização qua, dez 6, 2017
"Please, please, Christina!" she whispered with so much desperation and deep sorrow. I continued to stay completely and utterly frozen, not able to move or even move a finger. When she didn't receive a response, I felt the warmth of her hand escape mine and heard him exit, silently out of the small, blue and white room. I wanted to breakdown right then and there but it was clearly impossible. I can't move, speak, feel or see anything. It is just so painful when I hear people speaking around me, talking about me and my current conditions. It is painful to hear them sob and not be able to comfort them. I'm just making their pain even worse by not making a single move or just a twitch of a muscle. It hurts to know that I'm only lying down on a bed with a machine that is keeping me alive, keeping me from being engulfed into imperishable oblivion.
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They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.

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