My skin was crawling, blooming with heat. The fire burned so bright, so hot, that even the steam was enough. The air blistered, my hair singed.
I call out, it wasn't me! but the flames have engulfed my voice, they've engulfed me. My back arches in pain as the wood splinters into my back. My wrists red, raw from friction, my heart dulled. There was no use fighting, I had lost my fight, it was too late now. I had burned.
It wasn't even me.
Imagineβ¨π€π
By onyxsmithofficial
Sometimes we just need to imagine... This book is something I wrote so I can write away my feelings, take ide... More