I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
When you know it's over, you don't feel much. She didn't, not anymore. At first she had struggled and screamed until her throat bled, and then she had cried a raspy, haunting sob while blood dripped from her mouth.
They had her chained up against a wall, in more ways than one. There were the literal chains: gray steel, the color of death, digging into her skin unforgivably. If they were ever to let her go, her ankles and wrists would be red and raw, exposing the flesh underneath the skin that had worn off long ago.
Then there were the figurative chains; the chains in her mind. She was useless, helpless, vulnerable in a way she had never been before. She couldn't do this on her own. She needed someone else, and that killed her, slowly, more than the chains and the torture and the poison ever could.
I am taffy stuck and tongue tied
Stutter shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am fine
The idea that nothing she did could free her had been a foreign one, before. Before. That was her life, now. Before and after; cause and effect. Before she had been free, and she hadn't known how incredible and rare that feeling was until it was taken away. She had experienced liberty in a fashion that no one could understand but the people who had been with her. The idea of flight symbolized the very essence of freedom, and now the dark chains held her down in a cruelly ironic jest at her past existence. This was the after, and this was where she dwelled now.
She had come to accept the after, beyond the initial screams of frustration. When you thought you were going to die, you panicked, but when you knew your fate, it came calmly. At this point she could accept very tranquilly the fact that she was doomed. She dreamt about it often, during the short bursts of fitful sleep.
I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded and unfolded and unfolding
If there was nothing after this, the idea didn't both her much. She'd had time to contemplate it, though she had lost track of exactly how much time long ago. They kept it dark so that she didn't notice the time passing. She had already grown to accept eternal darkness, and eternal nothingness would be warm and welcome by now. She heard nothing, saw only the black. What else was there for her here?
I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am fine
Author's Note: So this was just me attempting to write something slightly profound in relation to a song. The song is by Counting Crows, and it is amazing. You should really listen to it, since it's tragically underappreciated and all. Also, check out my chaptered fic, Until the End of the World, if you're interesting. And leave a review! Here, and at my other fic if you read it. I really appreciate any feedback whatsoever. Thanks for reading!