Hello my dumplings! Once again I've decided to write more, as theres currently nothing better to be done with my life, apparently. I went to read some reviews on my other fanfiction "The fire that sparks the mind and soul" and i could access the reviews, and there was one review by L.G Heywood... however, it showed up as not having any reviews present? idk, technology fails me once more xD
anyhow, in this fic please mind that it contains: Self harm/Self-mutilation, blood, ideologically sensitive themes(?)
Sliding against the bathtub, the hot water rushed eagerly to her pale limbs that stepped themselves into the bath. Gently easing against skin, occasionally spilling over the edges of the bathtub, Kirsty steadily grew accustomed to the fainting heat as she slipped in deeper into the bath. Loosing all sense of rash or reason with her mind, closing her eyes to the quietness of the bathroom, but more really the emptiness of her apartment. With no sign of her ex-husband making a come-back from hell, she took this time to reflect more on her life, since that there was nothing left in it.
She eased herself up, soaked fingers fumbling over the side of the tub, tracing themselves gently around the floor below until she felt a sharp object of sorts entice her senses.
It didn't take her long before that she knew that the bath water had turned crimson―watching it in swirls of the movement of the water, any movement she made; that was one more step to the water being a bold red.
"nnn.. fuck.." muttering under her breath as the incisions that she made on her thigh were supposedly deeper than she perhaps intended them to be. The only strange sense of comfort that she gains out of doing this.. her father had known that after Frank's attempt in raping her, Kirsty had turned to other means of resolving inner conflict, perhaps even a sense of comfort, a false sense of comfort.
Especially since that her uncle had gotten away with his attempt, Kirsty wouldn't dare under her father's conviction to not prosecute Frank herself. Her father was more than willing to protect her, have good intentions for her, perhaps that he also didn't understand her means of savouring her sense of putting herself at ease.
"But he meant well.. i know that for sure." she sank deeper into the bathtub, the coppery taste of her own blood, bonded with the water had seeped into her mouth bit by bit.
Her eyes glanced over at the puzzle box that she had held dear to her all these years, perhaps even without admitting that fact to herself so soon.
She did, however, want to experience means other than what is left for her in this world. Frank had stolen her life away from her, however, trying to spend her time at this moment to reconstruct what ever she can with her life now, doesn't appear to be doing what she thought might happen. "I have no intentions of leaving until i get what i want", the leather-clad Cenobite spoke, "and what I want, is you"
Silence echoed the bathroom until it was broken by the sound of water splashing and dripping of her slim form as she stood from inside the tub.
"what I want, is you"