My Runaway

My Runaway

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación dom, ene 16, 2022
As rain is pouring its droplets onto the muddy floor, I am decided, confused but ready to spell my thoughts. I've never ordered my mind or could easily think things through. Thousands of questions popping, such as unstoppable flashes of an old camera, in my mind. Several of them finish unanswered, due to lack of personal or human knowledge. Slowly crawling, finding their way while the deep black unanswered questions hole of my mind widens. Tonight, I packed my stuff. I am leaving, this shitty home, this shitty daily life routine. I'm just sick of it all. And feel ready to explore, to free my heart, buried deep down in its solid hole. One way or another, the unknown attracts me, I'm brave enough to sink in it.
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Why did he kidnap me? This happened 3 months ago. Many times I have tried to escape the clutches of his rough hands. Many times I have cried for help. But I need to get stronger in order to escape from him. Now, three months later, I think about this, but now my feelings are different. I wanted to kill him, to make him suffer the way he made me suffer. "Do it, kill him!" Is what I'm thinking. "Kill him and it will be over. I will be able to escape." The mask that was hiding his identity looks at me as I hold the knife to his throat. The whole time I been wondering why I didn't just slit his throat. He told me to do it, to finish him but I couldn't, I just couldn't. I couldn't hate him for the times he whipped me or raped me. I just couldn't. I looked at him holding the knife to his throat with a shaky hand. No matter how hard I try I can't hate him. No matter how hard I try I can't get the knife to slice Reidson's throat. Dropping the knife on the floor I look at his face. I couldn't see his eyes because of the white mask. Now the same hands that used to be so rough became soft and warm. He still beats and rapes me but I figured out why I didn't hate him for making me suffer like this with these same hands that hurt me so cruelly are now touching my face gently. I held his hand to my chest as I look at his masked face. His hand is stained with blood. My blood. I look at his face, I have fallen into a cruel love.

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