Your Death Is Mine

Your Death Is Mine

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Jun 18, 2017
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Fiction
Romance
How does it feel to be wanted? How does it feel to be owned with no rights over your own life? If you loved someone, the one who loved you would take them away from you. How does that feel? What would you do? ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Blood rushes back and forth in my head, the loud electric synth beats from yesterday still going off. I turn over to an empty, wrinkled bed. Damn, the blonde babe from last night must've ran. Yet, I realize the place she once occupied, isn't empty. There's a white, red tinged letter taking her place. " Dearly Beloved, On this unfaithful morning, I come to you with a letter. My eyes are red and my face is stained, obvious evidence of your betrayal. How could you do this to me? Don't you care how much I love you? You are mine. Every minute and every second of the day, I own you. I think of you all the time and I thought you were the same but you aren't. You don't love me, anymore. But I don't care. I will have you again, one day. And I'm never letting you go again. Yours to Brutalize, ...your Butterfly " I'd been gripping the paper so hard, I didn't realize I was covering the blood marks...or the locks of golden blonde hair..
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#385
obsessed
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PROLOGUE: X: I don't have a name? I don't know who I am? I never have. Everyone calls me X like the letter. I live in a hospital for mentally ill people. But. I am not mentally ill. I never have been. I don't know why, or how I got here? But all I do know is that I don't deserve to be here but we all know why im really here its because they think i'm... different... Tana: I've always liked the colour red. Red, is for rage, and anger, but it also means love and roses. How I love roses. My name is....well i was never given one, my parents didn't care enough i suppose but everyone calls me Tana. I've been stuck in a hospital without knowing why? My sister couldn't take care of me so I was placed in this hospital? I've always wondered why? Sometimes I wonder why I have to be so...different... CA$H: My name is CA$H. No one knows my real name and no one ever will! I am taking that shit to my grave. I have been in this dumb ass facility for two years now. Because I'm supposedly Ill like they have to be high or something right. Because I am not crazy. I KNOW I'm not. I think they put me in here because I'm... different... Ian: "Sometimes, happy memories hurt the most." That is the worst quote ever. How can happy memories hurt and be sad? If I had true, real happy memories I would never complain. Because to have happy memories you need to have sad ones. The meaning of life, what does that even mean? What does anything mean anymore? Maybe they're all right. Maybe I am just too...different...

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