Ripped from her life as an orphan and thrown into the confines of an insane asylum, Amelia breaks and becomes the monster everybody says she is, revelling in the fear she insights. At least, that is until she learns that she's not the only Big Bad w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
White lips, pale face, Breathing in the thick black waste. Burnt lungs, sour taste.
Cigarettes, cold case. Vile flames licking up at its face.
Tired eyes, numb face. Thick black smoke slowly subduing the pain.
Invading my lungs, Charing the hidden flesh. Black, like the colour of my marred heart.
The skin beneath forever tainted with the pain of the past.
-That was my addiction.
***
I had my first cigarette when I was twelve years old. I knew that one of the nuns, Sister Mary, had a secret smoking addiction that she had kept hidden from prying eyes beneath a black robe and the word of god, I knew that she always kept several full packets in the top left draw of her dark mahogany desk.
They were strictly forbidden, therefore I had always wanted to try one, one day, I gave into temptation, -and that was how my addiction started.
No one ever found out. Sure, people had suspicions, but they never bothered to confirm the truth.
I wasn't worth it to them.
I used to smoke at least a pack a day, until I was hauled off to the asylum, then cigarettes became much harder to come by.
I would have to trade with the other inmates just to feel the sweet release of exhaling the thick grey smoke.
And right now, I would trade anything for just a single cigarette.
I would kill for one... But those were just type of irrational thoughts that began to plague my mind at about the twenty day mark of being chained to this damn pole.
I had lost count after I got to forty seven days.
Forty seven.
Forty seven days without food and very little water, I would not except the water given to me by those people.
The little water I would consume would be from puddles formed in the midst of rain, however it had not rained for several days now and I was begining to loose my strength.
And forty seven days without food will do things to you.
I was weak...so weak. -For the first time in my life, I was no longer in control, -And I hated it.
I hated the sensation of being completely helpless. I was so weak from malnutrition that I could scarcely lift my head from the cold hard earth.
I just lay there. Pathetic and alone.
My ribs jutted out beneath my fur in a disturbing manner, and many would stare at me with mixed emotions as they passed to and through from the pack house.
Some with pity.
Some with disgust.
Some with sadness.
Some with joy.
But I was done.
I was done fighting back, I couldn't do it any longer.
I refused to submit, but I could no longer fight off the overwhelming darkness threatening to drown me beneath its depths.
The waves of insomnia that crashed over me, -I hadn't slept in days.
Sleep... I needed sleep.
But the single thought that tapered my mind from wondering in the comforting embrace of unconsciousness,
Was that in this state... If I went to sleep, I just might not wake up again.
-But the thought that scared me the most, was that maybe I was okay with that...
*** Anyways... Don't forget to vote and comment! -🍟
