Forever Lost

Broken

Stained red the room was. It's true colour was unclear as the crimson smeared, splattered and soaked onto all surfaces. In front of me was a huge table, also covered in blood, that strangely had leather cuffs attached securely onto it. However, that alone was not what made me scream out of fright but instead the sight before me was. A young girl lay lifelessly on the filthy floor. Huge chunks of flesh were missing from her corpse and deep gashes and burns littered her dead body.

"Oopsy daisy. I often forget about my little mistakes that need cleaning up. Sorry you had to see that, dear. Sometimes I get carried away,". What is this place? I shivered. They were right about her. Right to fear her. Yet again I fell for lies and false pretences. Idiotic fool. No wonder they left me. He's gone. Too occupied in my thoughts, I didn't notice Mrs.Bode inching her way towards me. She pounced onto me like a mountain lion on his prey and dropped me on the table. Desperately, I struggled to get out of her grasp as she attempted to buckle my limbs down.

Kick.

Punch.

Squirm.

Every blow either missed or was sharply blocked. Left arm strapped. No! Left leg. Only my right side now. I was about to admit defeat. No! Don't stop fighting. Even if we lose at least we know we didn't go down without a fight The voice screamed. With incredible force I delivered a harsh blow under her chin. Effectively hindering her. Hurriedly, I began to pull at the restraints that held down my left side. Red lips smirked as she strutted over to me after finally recovering from my kick.

Minutes passed yet I still remained stuck as she watched with unmasked humour. My attempts were futile. Defeated, I slumped against the table and struggled to slow my sobs. Cockily, she slowly restrained my right side and remarked " You do put up quite a fight, Isabella. We shall soon get it out if you. We will break you,". A blade in hand she struck down above my kneecap embedding the knife deep into my flesh. Torturously slow she pulled the knife downwards past the kneecap, scraping the bone as she passed. Sobs soon turned to screams. She was like an artist. The knife her pencil. The blood her paint. The screams her muse. Random patterns were etched onto my once flawless skin. Pain pulsed around my body encasing every inch in it's torture. She said that she would break me. But I was already broken.