Death By Jon.

Death By Jon.

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, May 7, 2020
I killed myself. My suicide wasn't done in the traditional sense though, not by a razor blade and the slow, fluid movement of cold metal sliding through my skin. It wasn't completed by a rope hanging from the ceiling, with a noose around my neck. My murder wasn't from an object or pills I forced down my throat; it was done by a disease. It was slow at first, eating away at my thoughts and my words. Then, it was fast, tearing through my heart and my emotions. A disease that started with a smile.
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I wake up.... but "wake up" isn't right,waking up would require a bed, covers, a pillow. Instead I come to and I sit up, right away, a pounding headache bursts through me, it takes a while, but it passes. I look down my white dress, I see dry blood stains on it, but I can't find any injury. I realize that I'm in a cage, I see metal bars around me,the floor I'm sitting on is also metal, I recheck my body for injuries, but instead of an injury, I feel something soft, my blood runs cold, ...fur, it feels like fur, I turn my head around. look down, at the back of my dress and start screaming, I can't stop, it's like someone has taken control of my vocal chords, the reason I'm screaming is because what's on-no what's attached to me, is a wolf's tale.She doesn't know who she is, she doesn't know where she is, what she does know is that she has to escape.

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