She has returned, changed..
She was an innocent 15-year-old girl who had been through too much to list. Silently, she fights her own battles and tries to pull through. Eventually, she finds peace and comfort in her 5 brothers who help her heal over...
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TW: Mentions of suicide & violence.
AZALEA'S POV:
EVERYTHING HURTS.
I can't handle it anymore. I want to die. I don't ever want to breathe again. I beg to be killed. They never listen. No one ever listens.
Black and blue is scattered all over my body, scars and blood. If someone, someone I knew before came and tried to identify me, they wouldn't be able to. I'm unrecognizable. Inside and out. Sometimes, I think I find myself forgetting who I am. I find myself getting lost in my dreams of being anyone else.
I don't know how long I've been here. There are charts I have created on wall to the left of me that's made of scratched paints, but I wouldn't be able to count anyway. Everything is spinning, and my eyesight is blurry. I haven't eaten in days, and I'm in so so so much pain. And for some very weird reason, I haven't shed a single tear. I'll break down sooner or later, though. I've never been a strong one.
Vincent always pays me visits. He tells me my brothers don't love me, that I am unloveable and how he's doing me a favour here. Tells me I deserved every bad thing that has ever happened to me. I deserve to die. He seems to always be there. I think he's getting in my head.
At first I told myself and him that it is not true. I am loveable. But nowI sit there, motionless and allow him attack me with the words from his mouth until he leaves. I don't deny it, anymore.
The metallic taste of blood lingers in my mouth. My own blood. It's all I've been able to taste for days. I wish I could eat. I hate myself for starving myself when I lived with my brothers. Selfish, stupid, inconsiderate, ignorant.. perfect words to describe me.
The room is small, damp and old. Dust covers the cold, stone floor. Mould grows in some corners and I feel spiders crawl up my spine. Maybe I'm imagining it though.
They provide me with food. Mouldy bread, water and some inedible liquid in a bowl. It's all drugged though- I found this out during my first days here.
I know I shouldn't think of them, but my brothers seem to be on my mind every second of the fucking day. What are they doing now? Are they looking for me? Have they even realized I'm fucking gone? Wonder what they're thinking. Must be relieved I'm gone, probably crossing their fingers for my death. And I think of Elliott. Everything he's done for me. I want to die, but I don't want to die without saying goodbye to him. I love him. I know I do, and it would break me to see him worry for me at all. I hope he's doing well- as good as he can be doing.
Everyday, they take me outside my room and into a large space full of weapons, gym equipment and things for training. They make me train and fight till all my limbs ache and I can't move anymore. They make me train and fight till I collapse. I consider killing myself. They tell me it's for my own good; I need it and I'll understand soon. All I understand is the overwhelming urge to kill someone. Myself or them.
