Rogue (12 Years old)
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Is it morning? Or night? I don't know anymore.
In here, in this hot, dead place, time feels gone.
Nothing ever changes.
The dark is always here.
The silence crushes me.
"Ughhh!" The sound rips out of me before I can stop it, my whole body jerking in pain.
Even the tiniest move feels like knives are stabbing my skin.
My arms hurt so bad----my wrists are stuck to the stone wall, the chains digging in like they want to eat me.
The air hates me too. It's heavy and burning, sneaking into my cuts, making fire under my skin.
Every drop of sweat that runs down stings like it's trying to kill me.
"I... I just wanna go outside..." I whisper. My lips are dry and broken, but the words crawl out anyway.
Gggrrrwwwlll...
My stomach growls again. It sounds so loud, so empty, like it's laughing at me.
It hurts.
The hunger scratches inside me, like some monster with sharp claws trying to eat me from the inside out.
How long has it been since I ate?
One day? Two? Ten? I don't know. Everything feels the same in here.
I've cried so much my throat feels broken. I even begged for it to stop, for me to stop. But they won't let me.
Why?
Why do they keep me alive if all they want is to break me?
When did it start? I can't remember anymore. The days blur together. The pain never ends.
But there's one thing I do remember. One thing that won't leave.
...I miss Mommy.
I miss Nanny.
Why didn't they come? Why didn't they save me?
Why did they leave me here?
How long will they keep me here?
How long before I just... disappear?
I just want to go home.
I want to go home so bad it makes my chest ache worse than the cuts on my skin.
If this is living...
then I don't want it. Just let me die already.
"Yo! Still breathing?"
The silence shattered, my whole body flinching.
That voice. That mean, laughing voice.
I forced my head up, it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. My eyes burned, and everything around me swirled and wobbled.
The shape in front of the bars looked like shadows dancing in the light. The sound of him was twisted, like my ears were full of buzzing bees.
But then I remembered.
Ah... it's him. My brother.
My brother, three years older. He gets to run, to laugh, to live in the sun while I rot in the dark.
What does he want this time?
"Rogue, let's play!" he sneered.
No.
Not again.
Not his games. His games only mean blood. Only mean bruises. I don't want to play. I don't.
YOU ARE READING
Rogue
General Fiction|ENGLISH| 'Those who judge don't understand and those who understand don't judge.' She was a picture of perfection, a saint in the eyes of the world, charming, graceful, and always in control. Her carefully crafted image earned her admiration and i...
