A/N: Brief little character piece focusing on Daniella and the symbolism in her death scene. Warnings for self harm by way of explaining the cuts on her hands, and other disturbing imagery.
Disclaimer: I don't own Haunting Ground.
Analgesia
The mirrors mock me in each room of the castle; hiding behind curtains, in the night's sky beyond window panes, tormenting me with the image of myself.
Not perfect. Not complete.
In my anger I scream at them: my fists move to shatter them into a thousand pieces, but each time I break the glass the grotesque image it holds only replicates. Fractured pieces bite into my knuckles and palms, reminding me I can never escape myself.
Shattered glass is my enemy and my only friend.
I bury my reflection under my skin in a vain attempt to feel. To be perfect. To be complete.
The glass slides effortlessly into my abominable flesh, my blood flows freely from the cuts, and still I feel nothing.
Red spills onto the stone floor below, and I know that later I must scrub it clean, wipe the stain of me from the castle and not tarnish it with my imperfection. But for now I kneel, press my lips to the floor, extend my tongue to lick the blood from the ground and beg for the taste of it, but there is nothing.
Only when the glass is large enough to pierce to the heart of me, do I know what it is to be hurt. The agony is sweet and fleeting, and the only truth I have ever known in all my wretched, artificial existence. The shard fills the emptiness inside me, a piece to complete all that was missing. It penetrates the barren space that I despised and pierces the heart that could not feel. A smile graces my lips from the pain.
As the stars fade from sight above me, I am at peace.