Stitch Up

Stitch Up

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Oct 21, 2019
Baby can't remember. Ash won't tell. * In a world where knowledge is power, Baby has nothing. Nothing but scars galore and a blank slate for a memory. Ash is the closed-lip man of the house, her dedicated protector, her saviour more often than not and her keeper. Truly her only friend, for sake of no better word. Ash has knowledge and power in abundance. Ash has it all. Baby just wants to know why. Why is Ash able to do these things to her that no one else can? Why isn't it safe for her to wander beyond the house grounds? What lies beyond them? And why is it every time she tries to leave, she ends up back on his operating table, dazed, confused and bleeding while Ash puts her back together again?
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(TWs: gore, abuse, sexual abuse, cursing) Why does he still breathe? Why is he kept alive in this shadowed purgatory where time has no meaning, and screams are swallowed by the walls? His cell is a cage, his life a cruel experiment, and his mind a battlefield. Questions claw at him relentlessly: Who is he? What is he? Why does this torment exist? The walls bleed stories of others-lost souls whose cries still linger, haunting the air. His own voice has grown hoarse from endless screams, his body a canvas of scars, a map of suffering that tells no answers, only pain. Every day is a ritual of degradation, where faceless captors toy with his humanity, stripping him of it piece by agonizing piece. The only constant is the endless cycle of questions. Why him? Why the torture? What is their purpose? He clings to the faintest memories of a time before-fleeting images of warmth, love, a face he cannot quite recall. But even those are slipping away, devoured by the void growing inside him. In this relentless, suffocating darkness, where hope is a distant memory, only one question remains: When will the game end, and what will be left of him when it does?

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