I was not alive. I was not dead. I was somewhere in between.
It was the purest hell to ever endure.
The walls pulled me in, hard, strong, powerful, looking at me, snarling at me. Tearing at me, yanking, pulling, ripping. Hands. Fingers, tough and brutal. Eyes, like the walls, watching me, beholding me, ripping my recollection, bringing my hardest memories.
They said:
Death will be your neighbor.
I breathed. In. Out.
Take me.
Eyes, deep brown, chestnut, reading me. Arms locked around me like the embrace of an enemy, the grip of a challenger, challenging him, challenging me. Holding, tearing, slitting, rendering.
They spat, ripped, respired:
I have no mercy.
Again, I implored:
Take me.
My eyes were ablaze, searing down my skin, into my spine, across my chest.
Take me
Take me
Take me.
YOU ARE READING
Looking At Us
Teen Fiction❝Looking at us, I see your smile, and I feel your hand, and I wonder, truly, if we are meant to survive this journey.❞ Based on a true story in which a group of teens battle love, life, and sociality.
