THE ROUTINE DID indeed repeat for months. Vivian was now calming herself down from the memories, tears rolling down her cheeks as her knees were pulled to her chest. She tried to muffle her sobs, a hand over her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut, the constant flashbacks taking over her.
"Shit, shit, shit!" She felt herself lose control, almost like he was still in control of her. She hated it—despised it, if anything. It was unbelievable how much control he had so far away from her. I mean, nightmares? You'd expect her to have dealt with this by now, especially from how much she'd been through; but that was what made sense.
Yes, she thought an insane amount of times that she should've been over it by now since she's been through things she never wants to remember. But since she's been through so much, she knows it'll take a while to let go. She hates it.
Her throat felt like it was closing up, choking on air, while she tried gasping and getting up, but landed right back on the floor. Her body now shaking in fear and terror, almost now realizing this is something she did. Something she's been through.
You, you, you.
It was like an echoe in her head, forcing her to reminisce the past years few years. Vivian couldn't believe that all this was just from a few years, but she worried about the girls that were still there. Girls that will continue to stay there with no getting out. Girls that don't deserve such things.
No matter how bad she wanted all this to stop, she knew she couldn't do anything about it. It's fucking sick that he hasn't been caught yet. She felt like her world was crashing down, more so than before. She felt like she couldn't breathe, her heart was pounding in her chest as the dizziness increased.
She felt weak.
Vivian had felt weak before, but never like this. She felt like she couldn't do anything; physically and mentally. Her body was giving up and her head couldn't control anything. She was too dizzy, feeling like everything was about to end right then and there, not being able to even get up from the floor; she felt vulnerable and she hated every bit of it.
At a very young age, she learned that vulnerability and showing it was childish. That was something she tried not to teach her younger sister. Sofia was still a kid, and she didn't need to know that her showing her emotions and how bothered she is was a bad thing, because it wasn't. She was four, and their parents had already tried to teach her things she shouldn't know; shouldn't be taught, especially at her age.
