SMOTHERED LIES

fourteen (Aspen)

Hola, chapter 14 is now here and I actually can't believe the amounts of reads we have on SL, we are all SO grateful for ur support and I just wanna let you know that we love all you guys to bits. And we want to say a very BIG THANK YOU!! <3

This is Aspen's chapter and it sorta carries on from her chapter before when she escaped and now she being taken back to her cell.

I know, it sounds boring, but Aspen does discover some pretty major clues to who could be setting her and the girls up. I won't give anymore away.

xoxo (the perfectionist)

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An iron fist clamps icily around mine, unmovable. Barking words split the silence, heavy footsteps pacing the floor. Shrieking cries spill from my mouth in the open, continued with the crushing of my bones. I’m not sure if I can handle any more of this. It would be easier to give in; let go. But I know I'm stronger than that.

Hallway upon hallway lace this underground labyrinth, layers of chipped paint at every corner, doors in every nook and cranny. My eyes pace back and forth between the walls, surveying the many flaws and imperfections. Cracks cut deeply into the plastered walls, creating patterns around me which form into creatures within my mind.

Imperfections that remind me of the many faults within myself. The small freckles on the bridge of my nose, the uneven shape of my lips, the frizz contained in my hair. And I don’t even want to get started with my love life. The many boyfriends I have scurried through, no matter how many times I tell myself it was them, I still believe it was my fault. It was my decision.

And my personality is far from my friends. I am materialistic; Adele and Raine would rather live a normal life. It pains me that even I think I can live without it all, I know I can’t. Sometimes it brings me to tears. But not right now. I have bigger problems to worry about than my personality. I’ll have enough time locked in the confined room to contemplate over my characteristics.

My hand has fallen numb from the intense pain of the clutch around my wrist. A throbbing sting threads up my arm. I watch my olive skin against the darkness of the man’s hand wrapped like a python around mine. The tattoos cloak his skin like water, draping along each muscle. Tense veins bulge from under his skin, coming alive with his pulse, with his deep shallow breaths.

My eyes wash over the intricate designs, the words I cannot understand, yet find so distracting. The unrecognisable letters merge between other ink stains producing a shaft of more words, more pictures. A puzzle marked into his arm, placed upon his skin, never to be washed away.

My arm is lugged in front of me, pulled from another source, my legs flailing behind me without any sense of direction. I lift my feet from under me, forcing my weight to subside so I can think of something other than carrying myself down the hallways.

How did I get into this situation?

It’s a good question. If only I had an answer.

Speculating will do for now – it could have been this one decision to go to the hotel with Nate, the party, allowing Adele to venture off to the Eiffel Tower in the early hours of the morning, or it  could be this whole trip to Paris. Surely it couldn’t be.

I’ve learnt so much from this, I’ve seen so much. The sunsets had delicate strokes of white clouds, with pinks and oranges that merge into blues. The sculptures and architecture, the sky scraping towers, the hand-crafted hotel. Everything was mesmerising, magical as if I was on another planet, another galaxy.