❝ Some things scratch at the surface while others strike at your soul. ❞
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 her whole life to catching the monsters in this world in hopes of fixing something that is broken inside of her.
Tha...
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"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."
— Joseph Conrad
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0.0 ; BEGINNING.
SHE SAT IN THE darkness, clutching the sides of her stomach like they were on fire. The angry, long slashes of hot, fire-filled fingertips caressing her sides that made her stomach churn. Her body was screaming her to move, to fight, to run. But she couldn't, her body was paralyzed with fear. She shuddered and started to chew the inside of her cheek until she felt the metallic taste of blood on her tongue. It made her feel real, even alive, when she tasted her own blood, proving to herself that she was still a tangible human being. She can bleed, she can feel, she still existed.
He can't take that away from her, no matter what he did to her.
She could hear his voice in her ear, whispering her name as his hands explored places on her body where they were unwanted. She couldn't scream for help, not with him pointing a gun at their heads in the other room. She couldn't, or he would kill them. They were all she had, she wouldn't lose them. Not to him.
She felt the sharp end of a knife carve into her side and he chuckled, pleased at her whimpers of pain she couldn't stop from coming out of her mouth.
"You're mine now." He muttered as his sweaty, dirty hand clamped down on her jaw, preventing her from screaming as he started his torture. She felt his hot, disgusting breath steam in her face, making her eyes water. His rancid breath wanted to make her throw up but she had nothing in her stomach to give up. "Don't you ever forget that."
Then, the sound of someone knocking at her door shook Caroline out of her memory. She opened her eyes drowsily, glancing around the room warily.
She was still in her apartment, in her warm, safe bed. It was just a memory.
Sherbet, her white toy poodle, hopped onto her bed and crawled his way into her lap, resting himself right in between her criss-crossed legs as he barked at the front door, acting as her ferocious protector like he always does.
"Thanks, Sherbie." The girl told her dog lovingly, petting his white curls gently as he yapped. "I don't know what I would do without you, buddy."
Caroline ran her fingers through her light blonde curls, trying to take slow, deep breaths to calm herself. It's almost been six years since He had happened, and each time she had a flashback, it felt like yesterday. There was no escape, no way out. She was doomed to relive the worst moment of her life over and over again. She had tried everything from therapy to changing her name to get rid of that horrible, awful feeling that she'd never be whole again, and nothing ever worked.
