24.
They hold you down with the constricting restraints. You can't move as they near you. A tray of skin piercing objects rests a foot away from your face. The crazed madmen pick up the glinting tools and smile as they see the expression on your simulacrum. The pain sears your body. Your mind. Your complete soul. All the torture is injected upon you so forcefully by the crooked, rusty needle. Right on the underside of your weak, little scar. The sickening poison drips into your veins as they hold you down. The needle transfixed into you from the most awful angle. Your thoughts dance around like Indians near a fire. Hectic and unable to be understood for the most part. Everything seems to swirl together and then break apart into small tendrils of smoke. Lightning flashes upon your eyes and all you see are fireworks or the hot, piercing red of the sun. The monsters lurk out of their hiding spots as the killers set them free. You are forced to run in circles for them. Forced to fight off the beasts of your own faults. Everything seems like a sick and twisted blur of all your nightmares. All the things that the psychos have made you go through just to weakly survive in their dungeons. All the things that you have lost or done just for their contorted approval. Their sickening approval. The deranged push you to the table upon which they hope to cut you open. To kill you as much as possible while keeping you alive. They stare into your indecipherable eyes with the black holes of their impervious own. Caring is not found in their vocabulary. They made it to where it wasn't in yours either. Yes, they created you. They dragged out the darkness and morphed it into the form of who you are. You are nothing but their shadows. Their lies and dark secrets and failures. Their broken dreams and pain and problems. You are all the things that they don't want. The things that they hate. The things that they are so willing to throw away and pretend like they never existed. They close in on you. They jerk you down into the hard floor beneath you. Blood flowing down the side of your invisible face. Tears burning your eyes but never falling down. They pull you into the maze upon which they plan to keep you prisoner in. To where you will keep running in crazed patterns until you die in an ocean of misery and confusion.
25.
No one cares. No one ever has and no one ever will. It's not like the normal cases for you. It's not what they say to you. It's not what they do to you. It's what they don't. They never speak to you like a real person. Or someone that they see as a friend. You are always like the new kid. Or someone with a disease that causes them to hate you. They don't joke around and laugh with you. It's with the other people there. You're so sick of being the child so engulfed in darkness that everyone stays so far away from you. They treat you as if you aren't there. As if you are what you want to be so much of the time. Dead. They treat you as if you are a ghost. They look right through you. They don't understand how much it hurts you. How much you want to cry and scream and break things every single stupid day that you are stuck there. Here where no one else understands. Where no one else ever did what you did. That god awful secret that you want to tell. But you know better. You feel yourself fading every day. You want the poison to flow through your blood. You want the fire to turn you into an untraceable pile of ashes. You're so sick of it all. So sick of being treated like you aren't there. So sick of faking your whole dang life. So sick of being scared. So sick of being lied to. So dang frikin sick of trying to help people while they spit in your pathetic face. You sit on the edge of this cruel world. Kicking your feet back and forth like a child would over a pond. Staring at the stars and wishing that you could reach out and grab one of them. But you are stuck there. Gasping for the few breathes that they allow you. Just enough to keep you alive whilst you suffer. You close your eyes to your dreams. Follow all their insensate rules. And blur into a nothingness that remains unseen by those surrounding your inert life.
26.
You sit desolated from all of the others. They sit around in their happy little lives. Unaffected by any of the issues roaming through the real world. They are almost as bad as your higher tormentors. They ignore you just the same. They seem to blame you just the same. They probably even hate you the same. They feed you lies and expect you to believe them. You aren't smart, but you can still grasp most of them. And it kills you. You drift in and out of the conscious state that you hate so much. Your vision seems to blur even more and you feel yourself breaking into pieces faster. You're coming closer to it. You try to run, but they chase you until you're only a few steps away. They don't see what they are doing. But it doesn't matter. They wouldn't stop even if they did. They don't care about you. You feel so sick because of them all. Like you don't belong. Probably because you don't. You shouldn't be around anyone. You shouldn't have friends. You shouldn't have feelings or an opinion. You're just a worthless piece of nothing that should be left alone to die. To suffocate in the messes that you have made. To slowly be devoured by the monsters that you have created. The darkness sinks in over your head and you drown in it. You let it fill you and close your eyes to this world in which you are trapped. You feel the object and teeth pierce your hand. The blanket cover your face and the water pull you under. You hear a scream escape from your mouth and feel yourself fall down into a pile of worthlessness. Everything seems to fade away. All the good things that keep you here. They seem to turn on you. They seem to hate you now. Just like everyone and everything else. So you let go of your light grasp and fall into the darkness as its prisoner.
