✔️ The Asylum || Twice FF

»35« [M]

I pocketed my hands as i took deep breathes, placing my hands in my pockets calms me down a little..

You may wonder why but that's because every time i look at a chair it would give flashbacks on how i was abused especially where my fingernails were removed.

One..

by..

One..

================

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Screams filled the whole basement as they echoed around the bloody and empty room, as the pliers would remove some small fingernails before throwing them on the floor.

A single light shines through the darkness above the little girl's head who is tied on a iron chair.

"OKAY! I WAS THE ONE! I KILLED MOM! I KILLED MOM! PLEASE!" The girl screamed bearing the pain on her fingers as she struggled from the chains in her wrist that almost turned her hand into violet because of how tight it is.

Even if she would admit she actually killed her mother even if she really didn't.. of course, nothing would happen. Little Y/n just wanted to survive from the unbearable pain caused by her abusive father.

"I knew it from the start.." The deep voice of her biggest nightmare spoke infront of her. "Trust is like giving someone a gun and hoping that they won't shoot you." He smiled and wore his gloves again.

"I knew it when you were acting all loving and caring to your mother.." He growled and took a butcher knife and wiping it with his shirt. "You were planning on killing her." He laughed bitterly before slicing it on the little girl's shoulder leaving a big bloody scar.

"NOO!! AHHH!!"

But no, Little Y/n didn't want to kill her mother for the love of god she was just a kid! The word killing isn't in her vocabulary yet!

Little Y/n just wanted to spend time with her mother after her mother was released from the hospital, nothing more and nothing less.

Everyday, her father would abuse her.. beating her, drowning her, letting her starve. He would abuse her physically and mentally.

Everyday she would hear the word 'You killed her.' chanted by her father with punches and what disturbing things he would do.

Until one day..

The beating , the violence, the blood, the tears, the screams suddenly..

stopped.

Friday night where everything stopped during a thunderstorm.

*Drip*

*Drop*

*Drip*

*Drop*

The blood says even if it couldn't actually talk.

Little Y/n helplessly sat on her usual iron chair with her head down. Her eyes were dull.. Her mind was blank.. her body was numb..

A pair of footsteps was heard going down the basement as Little Y/n didn't move a muscle until a glass broke making her snap out of it as she looked to the side to see Her Father..

We wouldn't actually call him Father.. right?

All red and drunk with a broken bottle on his hand, Little Y/n panicked just by seeing such a thing on her Father's grip.