❝I hurt people;
especially pretty girls like you ❞
In which an innocent but broken girl foxtrots with insanity.
And the music only stops when a demented man says so.
➳
Criminal psychology student...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Tahlia Faith Meyers didn't even know what to feel anymore.
Professor Flint, a short, stout man of about 54, had been going on and on about Class A Drugs for the past forty five minutes, not once paying any attention to the girl that sat in the back, tears threatening to spill down her pale face at the slightest little manoeuvre.
Her eyes were blurry, her composure on the verge of shattering down like fragile shards of glass. Blood stained shards of glass.
As Professor Flint went on about the adversities of LSD, Tahlia shut her eyes close firmly, biting down on her twitching lip in order to prevent herself from bawling at any given ineluctable moment.
Once she was positive that her eyes wouldn't be pouring down, she opened them slowly. Her glassy view only consisted of the balding Mr. Flint, and only the handful of students who had bothered to show up to the morning class.
Tahlia hadn't comprehended one word out of the entirety of the lecture.
All that revolved in her mind was one, singular thought.
She had been used.
The events of the previous night kept replaying in her head like a lucid nightmare, the clutches of dread weighing down on the last standing fragments of her sanity.
Returning from Michelle's house last night had felt nothing short of walking on a tight rope.
With her nerves pumped with pure trepidation, she could only hope that what she knew, would magically all turn out to be false.
"He wouldn't", Shetold herself, in tormented attempts of persuading her thumping heart.
She had almost torn down the door to her dorm room in vivid perturbation, darting straight to the closet. As obsessive Tahlia was about neat organization, at that moment; all of her clothes were flung to the floor mindlessly, one after another.
When the pair of jeans she was looking for, finally landed in her sight, the pockets were pulled inside-out in a swift motion.
Her stomach twisted into knots as she discovered that the pockets were as empty as a deserted alley.
An inkling of hope that she previously had, took it's first, serious hit.
Looking over to the mess she had made, she practically dove in headfirst, the search for an atypical, lone piece of metal getting more frantic by the second.
The room was thoroughly trashed within a matter of minutes, but the key was nowhere to be found.
Whatever remainder of hope that was left in Tahlia's heart, took a final, agonizing blow.
As if her legs would give out at any unpredictable second, Tahlia had to involuntarily latch onto the wall for support.
With her back to the wall, her body slumped down on the floor, finally, breaking down. The girl wailed with intensities comparable to that of hurricanes.
