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She is always there.

The mind can be a really dark place.

By Jenna MayPublished 4 months ago 3 min read
She is always there.
Photo by Cherry Laithang on Unsplash

She is someone you come to know well, someone you grow terrified of. She is stronger than you, her soul is black. The smell of death lingers around her, her presence feels cold and hungry. You’re able to sense her miles away, the hairs on the back of your neck stand as warmth fades from memory. Her embrace freezes your bones as she takes hold of you, your eyesight becomes blurred and all you see is darkness cloaking you. The longer she lingers the more comforted you feel, you become used to her presence, unsurprised by the numbness that succumbs you.

There’s nothing you can do to stop it!

Her beauty is breathtaking, she towers over you, her mind has no flaws, she is more satisfying. She shows no signs of letting go, reminding you that she’s protecting you from the chaos of the world.

If someone tries to get too close she whispers of dark omens, warns you of the things they’ll do and do to you. Warning you that they’ll see the real you and see how useless you are. How ugly, how unimportant you are. Warn you that you’re an outcast, they’ll never accept your mind in this society. Remind you that you’re safer here, where she can protect you from the evils of man. Every time you listen to her slippery words, allow her to take control. But when you don’t want to listen and push your way past, she’ll always push back. Harder and harder each time, her grip will tighten and numbness takes hold again.

You start to feel a trickle of pain, not knowing where it’s coming from or who's doing it, she seems unaware. There’s a warm liquid flowing down your arm and into your hands. She’s faded away, and you can breathe. A sweet release. She is gone.

You realize that the liquid was blood, and you see a piece of glass in your other hand. To release the grip she had on you, your subconscious made a cut down your arm. Panic takes over, heart racing again. Nervous she’ll come back, afraid someone will see. You go to the bathroom, clean yourself off and stare at yourself in the mirror. You’re here, you can breathe and everything is alright.

But it can’t last for long, she always finds her way back. The bleeding has stopped, you hold on to that pain, It blocks the numbing. It gives you something to focus on to keep her out of your mind. You add to the pain. But your energy drains easier each time this happens. When she comes back her grip is tighter, you’re weaker. But it’s the only relief you know.

You had a peaceful couple of hours to yourself. However, she is furious. Darkness blankets the room, the cage reapers. A lock that only she has the key for swings in front of your face. Are you looking for attention? Are you trying to make them see? Cause a scene? Get sent to a psychiatrist? Is that what you want, they’ll put you away? You’re the only person your parents rely on for help. How could you do that to them? No one will love you with those scars. The mirrors are shattered now. Seven years of bad luck. She threatens to hurt the ones you love, the ones that are left. The ones that are fighting to hold on. The ones that don’t get scared right away by how awkward you are. There’s nothing you can do. They’d be better without you. They’re wasting time trying to help, they could be living happier lives without you.

You lay there on the concrete of your cage, numb all the way through, you can’t move. Tiredness takes a hold of your mind, you’ve given in. She’s taken you and only she has the key, she won't let go. There's no one to hear you now. This is it, she has won.

Written by 16 year old me, 14 years ago.

Short Story

About the Creator

Jenna May

I currently write fiction, and some poetry.

I'm always looking to improve, so feel free to give lots of feedback on what is working, and what is not.

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