Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans.
He messed with my mind. Toyed with it like one of his machines. Now all the gears and wirings are picked apart into pieces and there is no way to reassemble them. I'm broken and yet strangely all together.
Sick. Leering. Atrocious. Deliberate. Eerie.
He left his imprint on me in so many ways. When I am alone at night I try to find the dents in my pale skin but they are surprisingly invisible. That is when I am alone at night.
Somber. Ludicrous. Anomaly. Daring. Earnest.
I can't remember what it was like before him. I don't know if I was always this paranoid. This confused. This defeated. I can't tell if I used to cry myself to sleep at night. I don't know if I used to feel like someone was always following me. I don't think I had so many bruises, cuts, and blood. I don't remember always being in some form of torture. Some punching bag, some useless pawn.
Selfish. Lonely. Alluring. Debonair. Enthralling.
I know I didn't always used to wear red, black, silver, or with an orange 'S' on my chest. I wasn't always under control. I don't know how to stop this. I don't know what I would do if I actually could. I don't remember how much time has passed. How old I am, how I used to look, how I used to feel, who my friends were, if I had any friends, and the list goes on.
Sadistic. Lunatic. Alien. Dehumanizing. Elemental.
I know nothing. And I'd like to keep it that way. Because I am afraid if I know the truth, reality then I can't keep pretending like I am okay. Like what I am doing isn't wrong. Like laying here now waiting for the metal door to open. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the outrage. Waiting for the inferiority. Waiting to die. Waiting for freedom. Waiting for the angel in Christmas colors in my dreams.