My minds eyes, served as a projector to a slideshow of memories - stolen moments of a life on the verge of disappearing forever. A burst of carefree laughter. Warm rays of sunlight kissing skin. My mother's loving touch as she mended a wound. These fragmented recollections only served to amplify the deafening silence and crushing solitude that enveloped me in the golden silence of slumber.
Mmh, the thrill of survival, the rush of adrenaline, the sweetness of indulgence... I take a slow, sultry breath, as I immerse myself in the depths of my own psyche. The fire of identity, the truth of existence, and the promise of vengeance may simmer in the background, but for now, I choose to fan the flames of my anima.
What could be more enticing than exploring the forbidden territory of my own horror? I ask myself, as I let my thoughts wander to the dark, hidden corners of my memoirs. The whisper of secrets, the allure of mystery, the promise of pleasure... all these tantalizing sensations converge to create vast array of symphonies of sensual delight.
Let the voices of my past fade into the shadows, let the whispers of my conscience grow distant... for now, I am queen of my own desires. My gaze drifts to the crimson dress that wraps around me like a seductive embrace, and I feel the rush of power, the thrill of rebellion. This dress, this game of survival, this exploration of my own desires... it's all just a delicious, intoxicating elixir.
Oh, the sweet allure of leaving a lasting impression, a parting gift that would haunt my captors... My lips curl into a sly smile as I imagine the look of shock, of horror, on their faces when they realize what I've done.
The specters of half-forgotten lullabies whisper sweet nothings in my ear, their melodic thrall weaving a spell of seduction and despair, this reader had become one with me and was the definition of insane, because they pry inside into places even I don't stride.
The nursery tune my mother once sang, that gentle lullaby that brought me comfort in a world that was already twisted and cruel, has become something else entirely... a perverse and macabre dirge, a haunting clue of all that's been lost and all that's been taken from me. The melody echoes through the dismal walls, a desperate howl of rage and despair that threatens to consume me whole.
Memories, like razor-sharp claws, scratch and tear at my mind, reveling in the brutal expose of my past.. I smile again, this time with a wicked glee, as I relive the pain and the pleasure of those moments, a twisted revelry that leaves me breathless and wanting more.
Ah, the memories of that cramped, suffocating hole, trapped in a world of darkness and despair... My breath quickens as I recall the sounds of my husband's rage, the shattering of china, the tears on my face, and the desperate try to protect her from the chaos. The staircase seems to loom before me like a dark and foreboding portal, promising to lead me into the depths of madness.
Just a child, I remember the feel of my firm grip on her arm, the sensation of her small, scared breath on my face, as I whispered "Go back to bed, sweetheart. Everything will be fine..." The words are etched into my memory like a scar, a painful reminder of the fragility of childhood and the crushing weight of adult secrets.
But I know better. I know the truth lies in the darkness, the shadows that lurk beneath the stairs, the corners of the room that forever seem to shift and twist. And I know that nothing will ever be fine...
Yes- the bitter clarity of madness, the understanding that came with a devastating lucidity. The dilapidated house, once a sanctuary, now a labyrinth of despair. Us parents, once pillars of strength, now crumbling beneath the weight of poverty and desperation. And she, a helpless observer, a pawn in the games of fate, forever trapped in the cycle of suffering.
With a primal gasp, I wrench myself back from the precipice of remembrance, the memories seared into my mind like a branding iron. But the imprints linger, like scars on my psyche, threatening to unleash the wildfire within. How much longer can I hold back the torrent of emotions, the floodwaters of pain and despair? The longer I resist, the more I feel the dam bursting, the madness rising to claim me.
I am but a leaf on the winds of fate, torn asunder by the gusts of sorrow and the whims of circumstance. And yet, I am drawn to the precipice, helpless to resist the siren's call of the abyss. The abyss that calls my name, beckoning me to surrender, to let go of the fragile threads of sanity and plunge into the void. The void that threatens to consume me, yet promises a strange, twisted freedom within the fray.
The silence is oppressive, a heavy weight that presses down upon my chest cavity. The stillness is devastating, an undead thing that waits, expectant, for the next note to strike, the next wave of memories to crash over so it can take a bite. And then, it comes, like a resurrected nightmare, flooding my mind with its vivid, technicolor intensity.
The closet, a tiny, suffocating space, where she was trapped, a tiny, helpless creature, with knees drawn up to her chest, a futile attempt to protect herself from the horrors that lurked within her adobe. The air was thick with the stench of mold and despair, a noxious fume that choked the breath from my lungs. And yet, I was hung, unable to escape, unkind no filter shrieks permeate, the screams that still echo in my mind, a never-ending cacophony of terror, my voice shredded raw with agony.
Even now, I can feel the fingers hovering over her frozen face, heartbeat and blood rushing blocked out the other sounds, but it's no use. The shroud was dissolving, a constant, relentless force of misery, a reminder of the horrors that I endured, the horrors that I will never be free from. The memory is a weight that crushes me, a crushing blow that threatens to consumes me, to swallow me whole. And yet, I am bound, shackled in this nightmare, forever reliving the horrors of a life stole, forever reliving that day that will never fade away.
The sound of shattering glass and crunching bone, a cacophony of chaos and destruction. The air was thick with the stench of blood and fumes, the very foundation of my home was witness to the traces. And amidst the wreckage my voice, once a gentle and loving melody, had become a monstrous, savage roar. The evil that had taken residence within me was insatiable, feeding on my joy and happiness like a ravenous beast.
I cowered in the darkness, the air compressed around me like a vise. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the sound and the sight to fade away, to be just a terrible dream. But I couldn't make it stop. The tears scalded my cheeks as I cried, the hot liquid burning my skin as I pleaded with the darkness to consume me whole.
I was a failure, an insignificant thing, a mouse in the face of this monstrous evil. I was trapped in a nightmare, with no escape, no respite from the terror that threatened to consume me. I could only lie there, frozen in fear, as the storm raged on, my world crumbling around me. The darkness seemed to swallow me whole, and I lost myself in its infinite depths.
I convulse, my hands clenched into fists as the sounds of anguish and despair rang from my lips to shatter my eardrums, threatening to consume me whole. My nails dig into my skin, a futile attempt to anchor myself to the one thing that kept me whole as the chaos around me becomes more and more intense.
And then, as suddenly as it began, everything falls silent. I'm left gasping, my lungs burning from the lack of air, as I struggle to come to terms with the devastation that surrounds me. The silence is oppressive, a heavy weight that presses down upon me like a physical force. I'm trapped, unable to move, unable to escape the horrors that I've witnessed, this behemoth crushing my chest as I looked into her eyes.
But as I look down at my hands, I see that they're not mine. They're wrong, distorted, as if they belong to someone else. And then, the truth hits me like a slap to the face. I'm not who I thought I was. The child I loved was gone, lost in the chaos and destruction that had consumed me and her father. And in this new, twisted reality, I'm just a stranger, trapped in this hellhole, with no escape from this demon that haunts me forevermore.
The emotional scars ran deep, embedding themselves into my soul like a permanent tattoo. The physical intimacy yearned for now was not the carnal desire of an adult, but the tender touch of a lie, the comforting embrace of ignorance. A cruel irony echoed in every corner of thy mind: the very place meant to protect her had become a prison, and the man who should have been her shield had turned into this monster, she escaped only to be taken away on the other side of the picket fence.
The aftermath left me adrift in a sea of explicit language and raw emotions. Coping mechanisms became my life raft, and I clung onto them ferociously. Writing became therapy, each word a catharsis, each sentence a step towards healing. And so, transformed the explicit horror into provocative themes, balancing emotional connection with the physical realities of survival. The blurring bounced off the walls of the confined space, escalating to hallucination levels. My screams amplified into piercing wails, a heart-wrenching death knell to the savage drumbeats pounding underneath.
Despite the chaos, the memories remained curled up, frantic fingers clawing as if they could tear through the terror enveloping her. Perspiration dripped from her tiny body, but failed to shake off the freezing grip around her heart.
Time seemed to distend into an eternal torment of terror. Every thud pulled mother further away from daughter, each sob of plea for mercy, slicing the fragile bond between mother and child. When the final crescendo of begging morphed into a choking death rattle, those bonds had already disintegrated.
Silence reigned, thick and suffocating in its intensity. The grisly finale resonated throughout the expanse, the silence only taunted by my own ragged breaths struggling to penetrate the oppressive blanket of tranquility descending, knowing this was the end of everything in my world, I died with her that day.
After what seemed like an eternity, my frail form stirred, indifferent to the discomfort of worn-out muscles, revealing hollow eyes as vacant as a corpse's socket. With the bloody masterpiece of horror unraveling before her, a new consciousness was born - one with dominion over chaos; a queen who ruled over ruins, baptized in blood. She wore her terror like a cloak, a symbol of survival, bearing the weight of a daughter's last breaths with her, granting her the authority to reign over the echoing remnants of violence. With no cautious steps, shrouded in a cloud of dust, the woman stepped into a world transformed - a distorted reflection of her former life. She navigated the rickety staircase, her lithe frame dodging the decay that had worn away at the steps over years of despair.
She entered the dimly lit galley, its walls closing in around her, having witnessed unspeakable acts of cruelty. Her gaze fell upon the lifeless form of what was once her daughter, now a shell of a person, crumpled against the emaciated asphalt.
Her face was a canvas of bruises, a grotesque bouquet of pain. One eye was swollen shut, lips split and inflamed. Despite the physical torture her body had endured, what truly haunted the was the those final pleas, the "I'm scared mommy," broke my spirit more than anything, and the abrupt silence that came, reflected in her vacant gaze - a lance to the brutal oppression inflicted upon her by a piece of machinery.
The mother, with trembling hands, carefully cradled the lifeless body, seeking solace in the only way she knew how. Skin against skin was the only comfort she could offer as she held her daughter close, their bodies entwined in a dance of despair - a stark contrast to the passionate bond that had once united them.
As I held her, questions swirled in my mind, unanswered and haunting. Why had this happened, why did I not leave him, we made a breeding ground for hate, inhospitable to love? What sinister seed had taken root in the hearts of those who were once vibrant and happy, twisting them into monstrous shadows of their former selves? And how much longer would the darkness festering within the walls consume us all?
But alas, these were not questions I could comprehend - for soon after I lost an innocent, unprepared for the gunshot upstairs, and the scene of the depravity I had been forced to witness. All I knew was that this vicious cycle had collapsed on itself. Silence - night after endless night, as I cowered in fear, listening to the violent echoes that shattered my dreams and left me shrouded in a darkness I could never escape.
Yet, even in the face of such despair, a flicker of hope remained within my heart - a stubborn refusal to let the darkness win, I told her she would never die, Scarlet will forever live, I will be a legend, promise kept. Legends don't die, they are forever. The world would wear this bloodstain with me, this is a journey to bring her back to life, I am a witch, fore you're witnessing necromancy in real time.
The rot of humanity's shadow is not in the ink, but in the darkness that fuels the pen,
gruesome daggers, dripping honeyed poison.
My stories overflowith off the page and onto your wretched fingertips.
