But now it eats at me, little corpse. Someone else made you feel pain before I ever could. It frustrates me, because I’ll have to rip it all open again, morph that agony, bend it, and slice it deep enough to erase the ghosts of them. And when I’m done, it’ll all be mine.
I’ll rewrite you in such a way, no one else could ever hurt or touch you the way I do—not even in your nightmares or your memories.
As I read each word, my heart pounds faster, my fingers trembling. Why does this feel like both poetry and a threat, woven together with a sick elegance?
I guess because it is. That maddening, insane bastard.
I let out a shaky breath, shoving the paper into my pocket and reach for the door, pushing the handle down.
Once I step inside, the darkness greets me like an old friend. The door clicks shut behind me before I head straight for my bedroom, my hand already reaching for my phone to plug it in.
But as soon as I push the door open, I hear the unmistakable sound of wood colliding with metal, and my brows furrow in confusion.
I flick the light switch and my eyes immediately widen, my breath catching in my throat as I take in the sight before me.
The ceiling is covered and bolted in chains—thick, black, heavy chains that seem to hang like some twisted, macabre decoration.
Some have sharp, glinting hooks attached to the bottom, swaying slightly in the still air, their cruel edges catching the light as if they’re waiting for something, or someone to attach.
Each chain is adorned with a pieces of black paper, the words written in blood-red ink, and the drawings of my face in white charcoal, seem to be different emotions in each one.
Afraid, distorted, angry, or broken. Black thorned vines and roses, splattered with blood, coil and twist around the chains in an intricate, horrifying dance.
I step forward, bag hitting the floor in shock, my body moving on its own. My wide eyes catch the double mirrored wardrobe doors, and I freeze. Words are sprawled across the glass. Some large, some so small I can barely make them out. But they’re there. They’re everywhere.
“What the fuck…” I whisper under my breath, my hand unsteady as I reach out for one of the papers hanging from a chain.
The words blur together, every one sinking deeper into my skin, into my bones, as I read each one note, compelled and unable to stop myself. It’s like I’m trapped in a dream, a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.
Hang for me.
Your scars are beautiful. But I want to leave more.
My little corpse.
Allure, I’ll make you crave it.
Breathe for me, even if the toxicity kills you.
The phrases come at me, slashing through my mind, each one leaving an imprint, a stain.
The chains creak above me, like they’re whispering to each other while I move through them.
Gold eyes, dim fucking soul. I see you.
Your scream is my favorite sound.
Big mouth, bigger eyes when you’re scared for me.
Wrath + Aurelia.
Broken, but only mine to break.
Beautiful in your madness.
Feel me, even when you don’t want to.
Even after death, it’ll always be us.