Trapped

1.

Annie PoV:

My name is Annie.
I'm Scottish.
I love music.
But no one really knows me.
I'm a figment of imagination.
A random name.
A random face.
A random thought.
A mask my creator slips behind when her reality because a bit harsh.
I am a thin piece of creativeness like a golden thread, sewn to create: No one.

I'm not supposed to exist, well not in your world anyway. My life hangs onto a dare, a dare that my creator had to pretend to be someone she wasn't.
And that is me.
I must say, it was amazing when she called me. To form around her to become a mask. My creator has a talent, one that no one else possesses. She can bend the world, change it, so when they look at me they don't see Annie. They see her. No one can stop her, she is the only one who can do it, there are no rules. No guidelines.

The weirdest sensation I first felt when I was her mask, was talking. It's weird actually, from starting as a random thought, something that floats mindlessly inside the brain, with nothing to do and then:
The whole world forms around you. The real one of course. Not the one you made up so you could stay sane. Not that you could stay sane inside another's mind of course. It is like being a prisoner in his cell. Sentenced to a lifetime of loneliness and insanity.

When I came into the real world everything seemed as a dream. You became is accustomed to your lonely world that real thing actually scared you.

I was terrified.

I just couldn't wrap my head around the thought of breathing real air.

Annie PoV

After I began to talk to others, I realized how amazing it was. Just saying 'hello' sounded like a violin plucking softly at the strings to create a beautiful melody. Talking became natural. So natural that I began to wonder why my creator kept me chained in the mind cell. Did she enjoy my pain? Did she enjoy hearing my silent pleas for release as I was slowly driven to insanity?

Why?

That single question kept attacking my train of thought causing it to ride off the rails, eventually crashing, burning, destroying. But there was one thing worse than having a question. It's not being able to grasp the answer. It was there, I just could not reach it.

And it annoyed me.

As my creator let me have some freedom, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed becoming the proper Annie, even though the world doesn't see Annie. Having a spoonful of freedom makes my long list of burdens seem to disintegrate, but just as the burdens were almost complete ashes, she sent me back. She imprisoned me once again in my cell. I screamed at her begging her to change her mind to let me take one more gulp of freedom as if it were oxygen, but she refused. 'It is my job' she told me. She is right, business does not associate with emotion because it messes everything up. So why should I listen to my tears? Shouldn't I just grow up and do as I'm told?
Still, how much longer do I have to stay inside her head?

God only knows how long.

Gail PoV

Annie has much power for a being inside my head. Once I gave her just a taste of power, she grasped it so tightly, her knuckles turned white like freshly fallen snow.
Telling her to go back was horrid unfortunately because she never listened. I had to drag her, and she wasn't happy about that. She screamed loud, like a really girly hyena once tickled, except more ear explosive. It was horrible because only I could hear it. I would try to block my ears but the sound made its way through the cracks causing me to writer in pain as the screams damaged my ears permanently.
Time and time again I would tell her,
"Annie. Stop screaming. You will return."
She always becomes quiet after that. Annie always seemed to forget that she wasn't truly a person. She was just a pretty mask.

One day, the world seemed to turn on me. Their evil smiles glinted in the dark. They pointed their fingers at me, laughing hysterically at my flaws. I couldn't stand the noise the world makes. I needed ear plugs, a sound proof room.
Or maybe a mask.
I asked Annie to return again, letting my grasp slip, letting her mask my face. I bent the world so she could look like me, so that no one would know I left.
Annie grasped the little freedom I gave her and if she could run, she did. So fast that she blurred but to her it was the world flying by.
It was nice to rest behind my mask, to sit against a wall and cry. No one could hear me, therefore no one could judge me. And oh how I hate judgement. I am judged for how I look, how I speak. Judgment is so painful.

That day, was almost yesterday. The pocket knife was in my hand, a sharpened blade reflecting millions of precious rays. With shaking hands I placed the blade on the soft skin that only just covered my veins. Veins that looked like tiny rivers, spiralling down my arm. The blade began to ruin it. A pool of dark red blood began to form. It was painful. Very painful.

But the weirdest aspect of this all, was that I enjoyed it.
Then suddenly, Annie screamed.

"Please." She cried, "It hurts." I ignored her pleas and continued to go deeper, feeling pain travelling around me, embracing me. But then, the weirdest sensation came over me.

Tingling
Stinging
Not right.

The hand that was placed on my pocket knife ceased to cut my wrist as if it were the last chocolate cake on earth, and moved away. Suddenly, the hand jerked, throwing the knife across the room. It pierced the wall, ruining the purple beauty of it.
My hand was following orders, but the orders were not from me,
But Annie.

She has become stronger, and as she strengthened, it drained me. This is when I realized that creating Annie was not the best idea. I had the feeling that she would gain ultimate power, leaving me with no grasp on life. With no control, to go live in a dark oblivion.

But I'd be away from pain, right?

A/N
Hey all.
You should know that my cover was designed by the amazing BethDreaming please go read her book The Blue Minded, and give her a follow💙