This entire event has left me empty, carving for the same old peace I kept dreaming of. My mind has been restless for the past three and a half days, repeating it all, putting it on fast forward, then slowing it down. All of the nasty memories I've accumulated throughout this week replayed themselves in front of my eyes on their own accord, as if they were part of a TV show marathon.
It all left me exhausted. Whacked. Drained of my entire energy. But even so, I was still up until three a.m. wondering what was it that required me to be punished in such a low and disgusting way. And yet, nothing came to mind. No matter how hard I tried to find a cause, I failed.
Maybe I deserved it?
I continued to stare at the ceiling through the blackness of the chamber over and over again. I felt as if I was being swallowed by the void, as if there was a new wormhole growing inside of my room, ready to make me a captive of its own.
My stomach was in knots. It still is. Fright keeps creeping in, too. New monsters appear and disappear with my every blink.
I am afraid.
I wanted to cry, but my eyes refused to leave any more tears out. The fountain dried out, but the pain remained.
I began to curse the hour when I made the decision to stay.
My dreams cracked and drowned.
Slowly. Deeply.
Slowly. Deeply.
Slowly. Deeply.
And no-one was even there to save them. Or me.
Though, in a way, I might've dreaded the saviour.
Or, maybe it was simply I who refused a helping hand—
because people cannot be trusted.