[141103]

trigger warning; abusive themes.

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It was the same dream again. He hated it. He wanted to wake up from it. But he couldn't. It was like the dream was dragging him down. It pinned him there and wrapped itself around him so tightly he couldn't breathe. It was the same nightmare again and again and again. And it never eased. It only got worse.

The courtroom was large. It reminded something European from a century or two ago. The large windows were covered with heavy, draped curtains that left the room dim. The light scattered around the room came from the flickering lights of candle flames. The light was alive. It was pure and natural and nevertheless it left the room cold. He shivered slightly, wanting to wrap his arms around himself to keep warm. The coldness chilled down to your very bones. And the coldness stayed. It stayed and inhabitet itself into his body, made his chest freeze to the point it hurt. His arms helplessly tied to the thick wooden armrests, the metal chains weighting against his skin cold and heavy. He sat there, unable to escape, unable to move, facing the sea of the faceless people in the jury. Why were they all smiling?

Guilty, guilty, guilty. 

He could hear the whispers in the crowd. 

Guilty. Definitely guilty. Look at his clothes. 

He glanced down. The pale blue shirt he was wearing was stained in splatters of dark red. His eyes widened. He wanted to explain. This wasn't him. It wasn't him. 

A boy of that age. He must be insane. 

No. The chains rattled as he tried to struggle in them. They were wrong. They had the wrong idea. It wasn't like that. 

Poor mother... such a monster for a child! 

His shouts were muffled against the gag in his mouth. There were hollow laughters filling the room.

Guilty, definitely guilty. 

And they all looked at him and laughed. These faceless monsters with their hollow voices. He was cold and alone and no one would help him. 

Guilty. Monster. Poor mother.. He deserves it all.

He could see his mother. Comforted by the sea of te faceless creatures. And she cried and looked so miserable, oh so miserable. But when she had the chance and their eyes met, there was that devilish smile on her lips. And he wanted them to notice it. He wanted them to understand. But they wouldn't. He would be the guilty as charged. That's how it went.

The boy woke up in cold sweat, breathing stuck in his throat. The red numbers of the alarm clock ticked at 2:58. He curled up on his mattress, trying to calm down his breathing again. Brushing off the hair from his face his fingers touched the bruise colouring his cheekbone and a quiet whimper filled the silence of the night. He hugged the blanket tighter against his chest, trying to keep the tears from flowing down onto his cheeks. He deserved it all. He was a monster after all.

[ runaway ]

Right now I feel like I'm very lost.
The only thing I know is where I am now, everything else seems unclear.
Who am I? What am I? What is this? Why do I do it? What is this all for? When will I..?
And the list goes on and on.

I don't know what I am, who I am or who I want to be.
This frustrates me a lot.
I am so lost.


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trigger warning - blood

There was that very distinct scent of blood lingering in the air. It hand strong over the building and got even stronger once you stepped in. It was so thick in the air that you felt like you could almost touch it, feel the taste on your tongue if you just closed your eyes. It made you fear for the worst, there was an atmosphere of murder and yet the scent of death was missing. There was only the smell of blood, so thick and strong it was almost intoxicating.

He followed the steps upstairs and by each one, the scent seemed to grow stronger. By the time he was standing on top of the staircase, he could almost imagine the pools of blood in the floor. Except that they weren’t there. It was almost frustrating. Like the scent was teasing him, luring him deeper into the strange mansion coated with dark wood. His patience was wearing thin, the scent making him feel like he could loose his mind. That little bitch.. He kept playing these games and he swore to god (or the devil for that matter) that someday they’d end up being the death of him. However now his eyes slowly scanned the doors and finally picked the one at the end of the corridor.

That one. There was no doubt of it.

As he got closer, the scent of blood seemed to get a new hint to it. Now it was mixing together with another scent. This one was much sweeter, almost too sweet and yet something that thrilled your senses with its vivid forest-like freshness. And as his hand pressed down the handle of the door, he wasn’t sure what to expect anymore.

The figure in the bathtub looked like an ancient goddess even in the midst of the grotesque scene scattered around him. His pale skin seemed even more ivory as it contrasted against the blood filling the white tub. His slender figure had that certain grace as he tilted his head back and ran his hand through the black hair that flowed down his back.

“Care to join me for a bath?”

It was a sweet purr in the air thickened with the scent of blood that coloured the demon’s lips red as they curled up into a smile.

140725

I feel like I can't write anymore. I want to but I can't. I try and I try and I try.

But it doesn't come out right. I stumble in my words and they don't seem to fit in their place. The sentences seem awkward and I the order of words seems like a mystery to me. They won't work with me, no matter how hard I try. The frustration inside of me just grows. I want to write so badly. But there's nothing that would feel right. I come up with a sentence. Another. Write a ten more and yet they don't seem connected. 

In the end I just close the document, sigh quietly and hope that tomorrow it would be better.

It never is.

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”You aren’t anything. Did you hear me? You’re nothing! Nothing!”

The memory echoed through his mind, hurt deep inside in places you’d think that pain was impossibility in. But it hurt. The pain radiated through his mind, into his veins and to his body. It consumed him alive, ate away everything else until there was nothing but hurt left. Chest was the worst. His hands pressed against it, fingers curled into the fabric of the shirt as if trying to pull away the pressuring feeling that made it hard to breathe. Where his heart was supposed to be was a black hole, all lost into its darkness.

It felt like his body was slowly crumbling into pieces. Falling apart. 

He didn’t have the power to hold it together anymore. 

His body felt heavy. It was almost like he was falling. Downwards, downwards, always just downwards. Pain was cast aside, slowly the numbness filled every cell of his body and nothing mattered anymore. All was dark, he couldn’t see and he just kept falling.

His world had burnt to ashes so long ago, maybe it was time for him to accompany it. 

Maybe this was planned all along.

馬鹿ね

うそつき…

馬鹿ね馬鹿ね馬鹿ね
馬鹿なオトコはいらないわ

泣いて泣いて泣いて
泣いた顔など見せないわ

Tonight I feel stupid on so many different levels I can't even put it into words.

I wonder if it's all inside my head and if so, how do you escape from that?

Closing his eyes he let the water flow on him, almost hoping that it would wash away these thoughts from his head. But they stayed like a cancer, circled in his head and ran in his veins. They were imprinted on his skin like tattoos, the memories covering his whole body. Without him even realizing it, his fingertips ran along those certain spots that had once been covered in such perfectly aligned cuts. Now even these marks were slowly fading away.

Everything else stayed. 

 

xo.