19th Hell
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- Votes 108
- Parts 92
I'm still afraid of black, I have an urge to wear things with the color red. I have a bracelet that has little red charms dangling off it, like drops of blood frozen in motion. Boots still echo in the hallways, and I can see corpse lining the streets where they once used to lay. It's like that world is still here with me, and it's arms wrapping around me to not forget. There/ is no escape from your pasts. We still get anxiety when we go to sleep, forgetting that the nightmares are less frequent. That's what the war did to us, did to everyone in it, permanently damaged us all; and there is no everlasting escape or healing. We move in with what we can, telling ourselves that time will heal it all, but all we can do is take the lessons we have learned - the ones we know to be absolutely true and safe - and make sure the rest of the world knows them too.
To love is to fight.
⚠️EXTREAM GRAPHIC & MATURE CONTENT⚠️
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#6
cns
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I couldn't stop trembling even more now. I calmed down a little more and checked my arm again. I was correct, I wasn't hallucinating. On my shoulder was a tattoo. It was a character of some sort-- in a different language. It looked like it was Chinese mixed with Islamic calligraphy. The skin around my arm was red and irritated. The symbol stuck out like a vein. I hyperventilated. I thought I was going to have a panic attack. I had to sit there, on my bed, and command myself to calm down. "I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. This isn't real," I whispered. I checked the mirror again and searched all over my body to see if I had any other markings, but so far this was the only one. I shut my eyes, trying to force myself to wake up, but this was real. And for the first time, out of all the panicking, my vision went black.Complete
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