hi
don't own Austin & Ally or anything else u may recognize.
Sweet.
Innocent.
Kind.
All words to describe Ally Dawson.
Abusive.
Conniving.
Cruel.
The right words to describe Ally Dawson.
Wait what am I saying? She's Little Miss Perfect, The Goody Two-Shoes, The Star Student.
Oh how you're so wrong.
She looks like sugar.
Tastes like salt.
Acts like a sweet and genuine person.
Lies like her life depends on it.
Her hands, so clean, so fresh.
No one would think there's blood on those hands.
Liar, they say.
Jealous, they say.
Bully, they say.
"What you talking about?" They say.
"Why do you lie?" They say.
"Do you like her?" They say.
No one believes you.
Who would believe the rough man over the soft woman?
"No one." I say.
"How could such a sweet and kind creature be so cruel." They say.
"You're just jealous of her." They say.
"Tell them." I say.
Tell them the truth, remove her mask.
"Liar." I say.
"I don't believe you." I say.
Those words echo around you, trapping themselves into your mind.
You can't escape, they whisper.
You're hers.
You belong to her.
You are nothing more than a play toy.
Something to be used and discarded, manipulated and abused.
"Come here." She says.
"Let me show you some fun." She says.
And she does.
She repeats those words, over and over again as she carves the bruises into your skin, her knife dragging itself in patterns and designs.
"Stop." You say.
But she dosen't.
You listen to her.
You belong to her.
And she knows that.
She uses that to her advantage.
Sneaking in moments of her sick pleasure whenever she can.
They see the bruises on your hips.
They see the slits on your wrists.
"Therapy." They say, they think you're depressed.
"Medicine." They say, as they force the pills down your throat.
You tell them about her, all the stories and truths.
"Liar." They call you.
They ring the psychiatrist, mental hospital, they take you.
Months go by, they don't think you'll get better.
"Lies." They say, for months you tell her horrible truths, too bad no one believes you.
Eventually you go back to school, where she's at.
She greets you with her warm friendly smile.
"Insane." They call you.
"Weirdo." They say.
"Freak." They whisper through the halls.
For why would one lie about the sweet girl? The innocent one with hands as clean as her soul.
She persuaded you into dating her, using her charms to allude your sense of security.
And she wins, she marries you, yet you still spread your lies about her.
Her fun times still ensue, each one worse than the last, more torturous than before or as she liked to say "Special Fun Time".
Until she went too far.
Her fists were mighty despite her size, her knife was sharp despite the lack of stability, her body was focused on her task, removing him from this world.
And she did, she murdered him without a second thought, and when the truth got out.
"Liar." They cried.
"Liar." They screamed.
"Liar." They lied.
No one believed him, they just called him a liar.
But now with the truth out, they all know her tricks and acts.
And when she tries to charm them,
"Liar." They said.
