wild imaginations }} Cyrus x Otis
Apr 7, 2014 6:35:52 GMT -5
Post by k!ah on Apr 7, 2014 6:35:52 GMT -5
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The darkness that surrounded me was darkness that I wanted to forget, that I wanted to run away from, far far far away from. I stood in a corner, my feet covered in dirt, my arms and legs smothered with what looked like blood. What was going on? Where am I? Is it his doing? Am I safe? Is Cyrus safe? Questions that seemed so urgent but yet to pointless race through my mind in an endless cycle that made my head spin. I look down at my hands and to my surprise a knife covered in blood was clutched tightly between my fingers. with a screech I send the knife flying, and I fall to the group, my knees collapsing beneath me. What was happening to me? Tears begin to fill my eyes making my vision blurry. My throat hurt in my desperate attempts to hold back the animalistic sobs that tried to escape. What was happening to me?
I needed to get a grip of myself. Slowly I bring my hands to my face where I wipe away the tears, smearing blood and dirt over the delicate white skin that covered my cheeks. Taking a deep breath I managed to regain control of my body and the aching in my throat began to fade. I look around myself, my long dark hair slipping from behind the hold of my a. I sweep it away impatiently. The world seems to have been dulled, colours washed out and weak. It was as though I was looking through an old stained window.In the corner of the room lays a mangled body and to the left- wait what! My eyes back track and there it is. A actual body. My hands begin to shake and the tears that I had been holding back threaten to return.
I climb to my feet, my knees weak and shaky and I wander over to the still form. It wasn't actually a body was it? I mean that didn't happen, not here, not in my home. I was close now, close enough to see that her face was no longer distinguishable, her lips were torn as, her nose almost hacked off what I presume would have been a pretty face. Her chest was bare and covered in deep gashes, gashes that could only have been cause by a k-kinfe. A knife. Images of a bloody knife grasped tightly in my stained hands flashes behind my eye lids.
“no… No no… I- I- I couldn't have done this… no, no not me. I don’t- I don’t hurt people!” The words tumble from my mouth unevenly and I scramble backwards from the mutilated body. The knife No. My hands. No. The body. Was there any other explanation? But how could I of, I couldn't of, I just couldn't of- I can't even bring myself to squad a buzzing fly, I couldn't even bring myself to think about slapping another person across the face- so how? how had this happened? Happened to me?
This time I don't hold back the howl that escapes my lips, or the tears that run endlessly down my face. I had hurt that girl, I had killed her. Me, killed her. I had done it- even after I promised self that never again would I ever hurt a soul. No one deserved it, deserved to go though pain, no one deserved to hurt, not in that physical way. I used words, thats was me. My shield was not my fists, my shield was my words, was the things that I screeched out, my shield, my weapon was not physical pain, but mental. I feared violence, I despised it- so why? why were my hand covered in blood? Why was that gruesome knife in my hands? Why?
Thats when I could do nothing- nothing but-
Suddenly I bolt up in my bed, my heart racing, my throat aching, my face damp with tears and my eyes blurry with fresh tears. I look around myself and the darkness that surrounds me. my room? Was I only dreaming? Instantly I jump out of my bd and race down the corridor to the bath room where I look into the grimy mirror. My face was clean, there was no blood, no fit no nothing. I breath a sigh of relief and bury my face into my hands. I slide down the all until I am sitting in a pile on the ground, my knees pressed close to my chest. “It was all just a dream.”
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Otis Castillo
I will keep you safe, don't you worry, I am here for you.
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