I draw out a gun

where did I get the gun?

i can’t remember emotion blinds me

how did i get here at their front steps?

i knock on the door before i can even realize i am. when they open the door, shock crosses their faces. Words come out of my mouth as if someone else was speaking

On their knees 5 people in total now all kneeling before me

i yell at Him for messing me up- i show him the gash on my wrist i forced myself to create

he doesn’t look surprised, do you think he hoped i succeeded?

he looks scared though, and i laugh a lot- this is so funny

I bet you can you guess what i did next

i drew the gun and rather aiming at his head i let two black seeds plant a rose bush on each of his legs

i like the way he feels the pain- the way i felt the pain- another seed into his arm and his other and every place that won’t kill him but let him writhe in pain

for good measure i let one last rose bush plant itself right between his legs

i call 911 after. I am merciful, to the person who deserves the mercy

i report a suicide, one bullet to the head. i said nothing else and hung up the phone

i’m pretty sure you can guess what happened next.

Ash

Stone

Aaron

Everest

Killian

Idk what else word word word word word word word

Cinderella. What a dreadful name. My given name, Ella, abused by my sisters, unwittingly knowing I would be married to Charming.

As the princess I have the blessed right to change the mistreatment of poor souls, like mine.

At first it was a beautiful revenge plot, but it soon blossomed into a cleansing.

To let my dear heart rest at ease, i needed to be rid of my dreaded step sisters and mother.

The prince suggested I banish them from the kingdom. I agreed, it would be easier.

Once they had left our kingdom, I went on a little... excursion. I found them in a tiny abandoned cot just outside our borders.

They had assumed I was pardoning them back into our kingdom.

Oh my, I can not describe the lovely look on their face when I plunged my hand crafted pink dagger (newly sharpened) into mother dearest.

She was so surprised! Oh my how she was surprised!

My sisters screamed in excitement, but it may have been fear.

It was all so celebratory. So, I celebrated.

There was a small kitchen. I knew all my life how to cook, and cook well.

I took some of their, entrails (what a yucky word!) and, why, I made dinner for the prince and I that night!

It was all quite decorous in taste, the prince unknowingly requested more, and how could I not provide for my Prince Charming!

My smart little brain (teehee!) decided on a source for supper.

The villagers, the ones that were like my Step family. Cruel to their children. Cold and unforgiving to me.

I decided to invite one by one the quite ill mannered villagers into my castle.

The look on their faces showed all. They were entranced by my palace.

I would sit them down for luncheon, and serve them a beautifully crafted meal made from the leftovers of whomever came before them.

The last thing they would taste before the fine wine hit their tongue, laced with a subtle but strong poison. Unfortunately it worked slow, and I wasn't about to waist my precious time! A meal had to be made!

So I took them into my special room, all white. How I love the color white! It's so pure; as they would soon be pure too.

I liked to use my handcrafted dagger, but other times I got a little fancy! A machete, oh my, how I loved seeing them squirm about when there legs were cut in exquisite ways.

Their screams were a beautiful type of music.

I whistled along to their music.

I cleansed the town and I was quite content (and proud of I may add!).

Charming soon became king, and I queen!

I looked down upon my people, an unprecedented orphan count went up. It was a rather small price to pay for absolute purity.

Despite this, my people needed money, they needed food and clothes. Their suffering had to end. Charming didn't listen to me much about their suffering (it was mean!).

So I decided to help on my own. Rest In Peace, my king.

The suffering didn't stop after I took power! It was so frustrating.

Then I came up with one of the most innovational ideas.

Those who suffered. The orphans, the hungry, the dying, the sick.

I cleansed them.

I continue to cleanse them. How thankful must they be for my gift?

The gift of purity.

What's a fate worse than death. A fate in which you crave the sweet release of death?

It's torture. Not the kind you would think if. Bored

How in gods name, you may ask, is this worse than death.

Being bored is both a temporary and permanent state.

Temporary is fixable and manageable.

The boredom that kills, is permanent. How am I supposed to want to continue if I'm not excited in the things I do. if I'm bored with the every day activities.

No I am not sad. No I don't need more adventure.

I need something more, I need to be beyond what is being offered or nothing at all.

Books offer this freedom, for a fleeting moment though. Once it's gone the Borden seeps back in. The apocalypse, magic, different dimensions- something that can take me away. Away from this world. Away from this bored little world.

PTSD

The first time someone said it to me, I couldn't comprehend why they had. I was no soldier. I had not seen battle.

It was a haze, a fuzzy memory. At least that's what I said. I lied, I could remember every single detail. How I felt. How I cried while I stared in the mirror. How the stench of his cologne smelled. How I gagged when I smelt it on him the next day and the day after that and for four years after.

How did I live with it? They had asked me this question more than once. Knowing what he did to me. Seeing him everyday. Subjecting myself to his treachery and keeping quiet.

How did this happen? I am still lost to this day. How did I keep quiet? How had I not realized what I was? A victim of sexual assault. But I didn't want to hear it, I don't want to hear it. I want to forget these moments and be okay. I know one day I will.

Am I a soldier? I trudged through this battle. I have seen horrific things. I have fought hard against myself, others, and him. I have muddled my way through. I have come out the other end stronger. I have a couple of wounds. Maybe some that won't ever heal, but I survived. I am here. I am here.

Shed light? Ha! What a funny way to put it.

It's darkness- no way to shed light on why I can't get out of bed and I just have to sit.

Depression? Write about it, get likes, make it into a song

Unfortunately sadness is temporary and depression is life long

We give empty Sympathy towards depression, anxiety, and any other mental disease through social media just to be noticed

Shed light? Fucking help me then.

“I love you”, I say 

“I love you more.”, he says 

       He was my best friend. My sole confidant. My cousin, Darren. 

      We were the same age, born only two weeks apart. 

      He was my brother. He was a part of me, not just because he was family, but because he had saved my life. 

    “I love you”, I say  

    “I love you more.”, he says 

    I was depressed. I felt like suicide was the only way out. He showed me that it wasn't. 

He accepted me even when i couldn't accept myself. He showed me that I was important. 

    “Im gay…” I tell him 

    “I love you” he smiles 

    I told him that his father was the reason I wanted to kill myself. I told him the truth. 

    I told him what he did to me. He didn't like the truth. He didn't like to think of his dad that way. He didn't like to believe my PTSD stemmed from his father, his hero.

    “I love you” I say

    “...Me too.” he says

      I told him about my trip to the hospital. I told him why I was put there. 

      I told him how the razors called to wrists. I told him that my parents now know what his father did to me.

     “I love you.” I say

     “Be right back” he texts 

     He was forbidden to see me then. I was alone. 

     The songs that the razors sang drew me in closer. The longer I went without him the weaker I got. 

     The black abyss of death’s promise called to me. 

 “I love you” I say

“ok” he texts back 

     I had no longer a reason to live. He was my reason to live. I no longer had him and my heart ached. 

      I was half a person. I had made my decision to go against his dad in court. I would put my terrorizer behind bars. I was doing the morally and legally correct thing. 

     “Hi.” I say 

     "darrebear.23 has blocked you on instagram "

    Did he not see how much he meant to me? Or did he simply not care whether I was dead or alive.

    I had stumbled out of a movie theater, intoxicated. I had figured that I could drown my sorrows in alcohol.  

   “IMMMM drujnk lolol, I miss you - text me back pls.” I text 

“Be safe.” he says 

      I sat up in bed one night. While tears rolled down my face, a thought occurred to me. If Darren loves me, one day he will regain contact with me.

       He had saved my life once before, but now it was time to save my own. 

       I am strong enough to carry on. I know I am. 

“I love you.” I say one last time

"Read at 3:28"