TW: suicide, self harm

After cleaning up after my meal, I followed the chain into.. my bedroom, I guess?

The door to the room was white, but clean. When I pushed the cracked door open, I caught of a glimpse of a large wall mirror. 

Looking at myself, even from this distance - I must be a monster, right?

My body is covered in scars, the right side of my face covered with red splotches. 

Healed burn wounds? On my face?

Some kind of collar is around my neck, slim and black. I reached up to touch it - I didn't feel a thing. It won't move off though? 

Never mind the fact that I just ate a human. It's strange that I don't feel a single pang of guilt.

Maybe I have really gone crazy.. after all, that's all everybody ever called me.

Walking into the room, I see a bed with a dark wood frame. There is a nightstand next to the bed, drilled down into the ground. Attached to it is a hook, with the base of the chain secured to it. 

Well, I'm a hostage. 

I decided to lay down. My stomach was full after my meal and the bed was soft and warm.

Eyes closed, drifting off into sleep, I didn't get to see two bright green and gold eyes reflected in the mirror.

_____

"I'm so sick of the way you talk to people, Anais. Everything you say comes out crazy. You're disrespectful as fuck!"

"How am I disrespectful? Why does everyone feel comfortable touching my stuff and taking things without asking me? Why do I have to be the one to be quiet but then when I do finally break down you all look at me like I'm crazy?!

I know those eyes! I seem them everyday. I know you all talk behind my back, and I know how you really feel. Do you think I don't hear you? Do you think I can't tell your eyes are filled with ridicule and judgement?!"

I felt like I was yelling at the top of my lungs, but I really wasn't. The house was so chaotic, my voice and my feelings were lost without even being heard.

I didn't care anymore.

That's right. What did I expect?

Love? Friendship? Bonding? Connections?

I don't even know what those are anymore. What's the point?

I wish I could live without feelings. I wish I could reach inside me, and rip them all out. 

Rubbing my wrist, I can feel my veins pulsling. 

Biting into a disposable razor, I quickly removed the plastic surrounding the blade.

This blade is super sharp. But super thin. 

All it takes is a light scratch. My skin formed a line followed by little beads of blood leaking out. 

I drew another line.

Watching my blood fall in a trance, I cursed myself for being too cowardly to actually kill myself.

Getting up, I clean off my arm, put the proper ointment and apply a transparent bandaid. 

Slipping on my long sleeve ravenclaw sweater, and downing my medications for the night, I lay in my bed.

"Goodnight," 

I say to nobody. 

My voice echos in my silent room.

____

"0314…. Success… 89%… sell…profit"

I can hear these words coming from the other side of the door. The closer the footsteps get to my room, the more fear I feel. I feel my throat closing, breath quickening.

It's strange though. I can feel it.. but do I really feel it? 

My body is shaking. My heart is racing, but is it really?

Looking in the mirror at myself, I tried to smile. But my cheeks didn't move. Muscles didn't even twitch. 

I'm clearly scared, but why am I so calm? 

The footsteps finally stopped on the other side of the white door. 

Stepping into the room was a tall man with green eyes. His eyes had flecks of gold swimming in them. Every second I looked into them, my body felt hot - like I was burning.

He was dressed in a white coat covering black scrubs. His shoulder length hair hung off his ears, lightly touching the lapels of the white coat. 

I couldn't see his feet.

The man approached me. Reaching his long arm out, he cupped my chin and forced me to look up into his eyes. It felt as if my soul was bared.

Smirking at me, he whispers:

"Let's have some fun, shall we?"