Museum Of The Weak.

Museum Of The Weak.

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WpMetadataNoticeZuletzt aktualisiert Sa., Aug. 9, 2014
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My name is Allison Brennan, and this is my story. At the age of 9 I was locked in an asylum. Not because I did anything wrong, but because the voices were taking over. I had three voices corrupting my mind. One was a female who had appeared to me when I was 4, she addressed herself as Ari. The second was a male, who appeared to me at the age of 8, he addressed himself as Clay. Ari and Clay, were my only friends. Until I was dumb enough to do everything they say... This included setting my apartment building on fire, killing 23 people. My parents and brother perished in the fire. I was later taken to an orphanage but confessed to what I had done. In tears I explained to them the demons that lived in my mind. But the way I saw it, I didn’t do anything wrong. The voices did.
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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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