The Devil's Daughter

The Devil's Daughter

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing14m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, May 16, 2015
I ran to the other side of the room only to be pulled back again by the silver chains around my wrists. A drop of blood fell to the floor as I kept pulling on the chains. Tears ran down my cheeks as I urgently looked around the room. My bare feet scraped by the stone floor. “PLEASE, LET ME GO!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, wishing someone would hear me.
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(Eight part story) You looked up to see that your room was completely painted in black, but the words written in red were gone, along with the voices. You shakily got to your feet, thinking it was over with. You were far from right. You looked towards the doorway to try and escape your horrible room. Your eyes immediately widened, filling with tears. You backed away, finally giving up and completely letting your emotions play across your face, despite who was standing in front of your door with a knife in her hand. (I don't own you, Hetalia, the picture, or Sweden. I own the storyline.)

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