Innocent Torture

22|leaving

[UNEDITED OF COURSE BUT STILL ENJOY MY LOVELIES!]

EBONY

I was surrounded by darkness and silence. My heart rammed against my chest as I tried to find a way out of this darkness, but the only thing I continued to think about was being trapped here forever.

I wasnt just terrified, I was beyond that. I felt weak and ultimately defeated. This is what the darkness does to me. Ever since I was a little girl, and even before my mother died, I was petrified of the dark for some unknown reason.

Then Gale eventually found out about that weakness of mine, and used it against me as he locked me in the small coat closet where I was surrounded by the darkness for hours. All I could do was beg for him to let me out. Or scream until my lungs ached as a young girl.

My hands crawled up to my chest, and clammered at my skin, trying to tear my heart out as it felt like it was trying to escape its own darkness inside of me.

Then all of a sudden, I heard soft crying. A baby's cry. The sound was at first frightening as it was so sudden out of the thick silence that surrounded me.

But then eventually, the sound got closer. And louder, and the light that I saw even became brighter.

I found myself making my way towards the light. As if this light would be my way out.

And as I finally got so close, that the dark that surrounded me began to burn into the white light, I was then pulled into it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the worst. And as I felt nothing happening to me, I began to slowly peel them open.

What was revealed to me was a room, with a little girl. She faced away from me, but her hair and the color of her skin made me realize something.

She looked like me.

I walked around the room, examine it and looking at how bad it was. This wasn't a room at all. This wasn't my room. I atleast had a bed, and a window.

This room was more of a prison cell. The walls were cement, the supposed 'bed' was just a dirty mattress on the floor with all sorts of unimaginable stains on it.

"Hey." I whispered, but the girl didn't seem to know I was here, or hear me as she continued to stay in her curled up ball, rocking back and forth. As I got closer, I realized she was mumbling something and crying.

And as I began to whisper to her again, that's when she quickly turned around as I heard a door open as light poured into the room.

I tried to turn also to see whomever was coming in. But I only could look at the little girl. Who had my teenage face.

She was me. But how could that be if none of this happened to me?

I then realized and noticed the slight difference in her features to mine at a young age.

My hair did look the same as it was when I was younger in the back, but the front was way shorter, and cut into a bang.

Around this age, I hadn't even cut my hair yet. This was the age around the time my mother had just died. I didn't cut my hair until later.