Look At The Mess I've Made

The Sound Of Static In My Head, Heart Is Heavy, Limbs Are Lead

CW- Physical violence, rape

I don't know how much time has passed since Joel killed Bel. He still tortures me every day, but its been getting to the point where he often knocks me out for a day or two. His only words to me have either been in hate or some strange sort of caring, there's never anything in between. Strangely enough, though he has used everything he has on me and doesn't hold back, I've become more scar tissue than not, and the scar tissue is a lot less sensitive to his assault. I have either grown used to the pain that he brings, or my nerves are all dying off.

He doesn't even lock the door anymore, he just lets me roam where I want inside the house. I am little more than a shell of the man I once was, and it shows in my blank stare. I've become so accustomed to this routine that I have become emotionally closed off, I haven't truly smiled in what I guess is about three months, though I never stop grinning because of him.

The scar he gave me on my cheeks is a wide, silvery strip now. All my scars from him whipping me, hitting me, throwing me around, or carving into me have become raised silver-white reminders of the hell I am in. I barely feel alive anymore, I'm just breathing at this point. Joel seems to be calming down on the killing, I have convinced him to just turn to me for his sadistic urges. He seemed surprised, but is doing it anyways, and I often goad him on. I do little things to make him mad, hoping above all else that he loses his control and I can finally rest. He rarely records our “sessions” anymore, saying that he finds it boring how silent I am. I never say anything in response to this.

I'm walking around the house now, pacing really, disturbing the dust that has settled in the house from the years of disuse before us. My stomach, now concave from me refusing to eat, turns with the food Joel had forced me to eat earlier, I feel the bile rushing up my throat. I hurry to the bathroom, collapsing against the side of the toilet and violently vomiting up everything. Once I've stopped dry-heaving, I wipe my mouth and nose off, flush the sick down the toilet, and wash my mouth out with water from the tap. I take the moment I am here to look at myself in the mirror.

My cheeks are hollow, my eyes sunken in and ringed with dark. I see no emotion or light in my eyes, only a ghost. My teeth, the ones Joel hasn't removed with pliers, are becoming a gross shade of yellow-white, and my skin has taken on a grey tinge. I look like a walking corpse, and I notice that my hair is starting to fall out. Whether its from my malnutrition, stress, the torture, or some strange combination of the three, I am brushing bleach blonde hair off of my shoulders every so often. I sigh, knowing that even if I do get out of here I won't be able to go back to how I was before, I've become so emotionally calloused and distant, that it would take possibly the rest of my life before I am able to function. I don't bother to wipe the blood off of the cuts he has made more recently, I know it'll just be added to as soon as Joel sees fit.

Speak of the devil, Joel walks into the bathroom behind me.

“I heard you throwing up. Did you just throw up your breakfast?” He asks, arms crossed. I don't give any indication that I heard him, instead I continue counting the flaws in my skin.

“Ahren, answer me.” He growls, now pressing against me and pinning my hips to the bathroom counter, using his weight to keep me in place.

“So what if I did? I would much rather starve to death than face a lifetime of this.” I snap, turning my head to openly glare at him.

“You dare raise your voice at me? Don't you know what that gets you by now?” He challenges me. I push back off of the counter, making him stumble a bit in surprise. He growls, advancing on me quickly. I feel his fist collide with my face, and I see red.

Before I know what I am doing, I am throwing punch after punch at him. I know they are weak, my whole body is weakened by this life, but I still try. Its futile in the end though, after he stands there and lets me hit him, he easily catches my hands. I growl in frustration as he easily overpowers me, forcing my back to the wall and sliding his hands up around my throat to choke off my air. I stare him down, not showing any fear as he presses harder. I start seeing spots, and I quickly bring my feet up to my chest, putting all of my energy into kicking him in the gut with both feet. I hear something snap inside of him, and he gasps as he drops me. I fall to the floor, landing hard on my ass as he stumbles over to the sink, clutching his side. I pick myself up after catching my breath, and notice that Joel is being strangely quiet. I cast a half-glare his way, and I feel something in me become sad by the fact that he looks pathetic, curled up on the floor and clutching his side, tears streaming down his face. His blue eyes are closed, his teeth gritted in pain.