I used to be happy
I used to love my life
I used to be carefree
Until I met the dark room.
I used to have a family
I used to have a best friend
I used to have a man who cared for me
and his dog who loved me.
Until I met the dark room.
Playing loud music until the crack of dawn
Running from the cops and shooting bottles
Hanging out and laughing with everyone I saw
Until I met the dark room.
The sun went down
and the demon came out to play
It's been a while since it's last victim
My life used to be so happy
Until I met the dark room.
He took me.
He took everything and everyone away from me
My hopes
my dreams
my friends
my family
my life.
He said it will be okay
Until I met the dark room.
He used me and even abused me
He took other people like me
but they never managed to get away from him.
Missing posters of me and others went around the town
Yet nobody could find me no matter how hard I screamed and cried.
I had my life planned ahead of me
Until I met the dark room.
He drugged me and used me for his sick obsession
Girls came and went, never to be spoken or seen again.
Binders and folders filled with their names
glue every where with new names for more people to come.
Finally, he and I have had enough.
I had people who loved me
Until I met the dark room.
He grabbed me, and knocked me out.
He then overdosed me and put me in his car
I was out of it.
I was out of life.
He went to the junkyard where my friend and I used to go to.
I used to love going their.
Until I met the dark room.
He dug a hole in the ground with his bare hands, and rolled me in it.
No tears were shed
no flowers were left
just a girl who was kidnapped and used.
He piled the dirt on me, with a sickening grin.
I used to love going to his class
Until I met the dark room.
Finally, I felt something.
I heard someone.
I heard a cry, a scream, a panic, nails digging into my cold body.
I saw a brunette and my old best friend.
The brunette was shocked, horrified and even disgusted.
My best friend was broken, crying her heart out.
The brunette ran over and hugged her, trying to calm her down.
I remember how her hugs felt.
Until I met the dark room.
Yet, the man got another victim.
I saw the whole thing.
He drugged the brunette and shot my best friend.
I tried to scream and warn them, but they couldn't hear me.
I wanted to let her hear me one last time.
I wanted the brunette to hear me the first and last time.
But I couldn't, my voice still lingers in my friends head.
I remember her voice too.
Until I met the dark room.
Rachel in the dark room he wrote
yet nobody listened.
The dark room is a place where broken memories are found
and where an innocent person isn't so innocent
the dark room is where you'd find him
where at day he would teach photography
and at night he would try his skills out in disgusting ways.
I was never scared.
Until I met him in the dark room.