Delusion in the Mirror
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- Parts 6
This is the writer's testimony. My story. This is a work of fiction but in my mind, this is what happened. I would label this story as a thriller or horror. So if you are senstive to blood, cuts, violence, or body dsymorphia, I suggest not reading. Orginally, I wrote this story as a school project because it was the assignment to write a short story. But I made it my assignment. I want the world to know what I went through and all the broken lies painted to look shiny and new. If you wanna know more, just comment or ask me directly. "Come as you are."
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testimony
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Decadent
My hand slaps against my mouth as I try to shut myself up. Don't make too much noise...or he'll hear you. A vehicle's door opens then slams shut. I don't hear footsteps...but as the minutes go by I begin to hear them; the footsteps get louder and louder and louder, matching the sound of my thundering heart. That's when I see his shadow cast over the ditch...over the place where I tried to hide. "Well," he says with a smile in his voice. "I wonder where he could've gone...the footprints stop here...so I wonder if he just...disappeared?" My body begins to tremble. I can feel it now. The pain. I can feel the pain already. He jumps down into the ditch...he stands directly in front of me, with his back facing me. My hand presses harder against my mouth as I try to suppress my whimper, but it's way too late now. But his body tenses up when he hears it. He laughs bitterly as he turns around slowly, and his eyes cut through my camouflage easily. "There you are."Complete
"You trust me, don't you?" he says with a smile, that smile. It had fooled everyone, even me at some point, and for the first time I want to scream with rage and shake the earth to the core. "Give me a hug," he says pulling me out of the chair that feels like a rock underneath me. I am as stiff as a board as his hands circle me, making me feel worse than dirt. His hands reach between my thighs and I want to plunge a knife deep through his chest. The only thing stopping me is, the knife is no where near. I pull back and I don't try to hide the anger in my eyes. I want him to see it. To know that I am coming for him. Rape is chanted repeatedly in my mind, reminding of the lies I just told and the false accusations I am throwing on innocent people. He's probably figured it out anyways, surely a Priest as high as he cannot be deceived. But none of that matters anymore because...... This is just the Beginning.
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