Once again, Tess is lying in bed being a spoilt brat! Acting like what she is going through is the worst thing in the world, it’s like I don’t even exist anymore, what happened to Fin was just ‘life’, and Daniel has no blame in it. Brendan, Mum and especially Joe think that because Tess and I are sisters, I should be the one to say something, to help her … but what am I supposed to say, that everything is ok, that nobody blames her or Daniel, what happened that night was just a terrible freak ‘accident’. It’s all rubbish, I hate Daniel! My own nephew, for what he did, and of course I blame him, he took my son away from me. As for Tess, she should have done something before his anger problems hurt innocent people. Maybe if she had Fin wouldn’t
Her whole world was crashing down. It what seemed like only a split second, her best friend’s father had been condemned to death. Someone who she considered to be like a father was going to be taken away, ripped away from her.
Still I saw Marian's gaze as she seized fighting. Tears rolled down her hollowed cheeks as her eye locked to mine. They were empty, the spirit in her quenched but worst of all she looked at me understanding why.
‘They hurt me. So I hurt them’ I said, emotionless, letting my feelings run out like a tap. My head was clear, dangerous. Objects became distorted. Clarice’s face became white. Her heart was a gunshot, piercing my ears with bullets. She waved her arms about and shook her head as if she was trying to will out the memories, the words, the actions.
If only I knew how much those words would mean to me now. My eyes shot open in fear, the unknown surroundings swallowing me whole. My throat closed up, the rawness rubbing along with air ways, clawing at my neck. I couldn't breathe, as I rolled over to my chest, coughing up the remains of dryness within my throat.
She took a couple steps closer and plopped down next to him. The dusts’ tendrils wrapping around her nose. War sirens alarmed the skittish town. Zofia’s heart started to pound inside her small chest. Her father, Sylwester, tumbled down the stairs with a radio in hand.
There was a burning sensation going down her cheeks, they wouldn't stop. And no matter how hard she tried to hold it back she just ended up sobbing harder, taking large stuttering breaths every second. She could barely see, the tears clouded her eyes and she felt oh-so weak.
She felt the warm, sticky coalescence of blood on the back of her skull, still running in a thin trickle down the back of her neck, trailing down her spine and creating dark stripes on her skin.She was naked, her defenses and any protections stripped away, meant to deprive her of her dignity and pride.
The anger flowed through her veins and killed her mind as if it was a deadly toxin to her spirit. Her eyes which were once full of innocence and happiness were now full of fire and would kill anybody in their path. Just by looking into her burning stare would slash you into tiny, bloody pieces. No one that knew her would be able to recognise her, as the girl they once knew was gone, and it was all because of him; the vicious, cold-blooded
She needed to see herself, to clean herself. But when the light illuminated her face, all she saw was blood. Coating her hair, her face, her dress- where sweat had once been, blood now dripped down her temples, down the bridge of her nose, over her lips. Her breath was caught in her throat as she clawed at her hair, her eyes darting around the bathroom for a towel, a rag, anything.
Purple bruises were scattered across her frail wrist like grotesque, swollen beetles. Her knee jutted out awkwardly to her side. Her bleeding, cracked lips were shrunken to a tiny buttonhole. Her tongue stuck out between her teeth like a piece of rubber. Her eyelids fluttered feebly as she lay there - defeated, defenseless, and desolate. Her chest heaved up and down, as her lungs fought for breath – she was barely alive. A caked, muddy trail of shoeprints followed him out the door. He had gotten away again. Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. My throat swelled up as my steely resolve began to dissolve. Grief shook my shoulders like an inner earthquake, the world around me crashing down. A nauseating mixture of relief and horror clenched tightly onto my loins – like when you finally stop an itch, only to realize that you’ve ripped a hole in your
I watch in horror, of the act I’ve committed. My dear friend falls, as my blade pulls out of her body, blood gushes out like a waterfall, she collapses to the ground, her face express’ the overwhelming terror that had befallen her. She covers her wound in a failed attempted to stop the bleeding. the blood manages to surpass her hand and begins to travel downward. she lifts her hand, realizing it was hopeless to think she’d live, as she looked upon her shaking hand, that had turned the color of crimson.
His breath, sour from too much ale, made her eyes water. As his grip tightened, panic set in; he was going to kill her. So she submitted.
Blaize panted and took a shaky step back. Blood dripped onto the floor in thick, heavy splatters. The man in front of him was past the point of screaming, his voice hoarse and fractured, with tears and blood running in rivulets down his contorted face. But Blaize wasn’t done yet. The thick pools of blood spilled on his lap weren’t enough. There was a deep, cavernous hunger that rose in Blaize, that sent heat rushing through every vein in his body. He grabbed Lawrence’s chin /hard/, pulling him so that the pathetic man looked him in the eyes. Blaize chuckled. Those pretty eyes looked so /scared/, shaking and filled with tears.
Warm crimson ran down her arm leaving a metallic smell that filled the room to the brim. The silver slit of metal she used slipped out of her hand as her vision became blurred and her breathing became faint. She slowly came in and out of consciousness while her arms held a passage for her demons to escape from. She woke once again to feel a pounding in her head that consumed her thoughts, she tried yelp for help but only a small groan came out.