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I wrote this story when young, it critically needs editing and correction which I'm trying to finish as fast as I possibly can. Either wait with reading it or suit yourself when you get to the 2017-chapters.
adore you,
x Michelle ♡
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After Camila it was Chad's turn, and he being the asshole he is, decided that the worst torture for me won't be with knives and hits and words; it'll be by torturing Avery, so he killed two birds with one stone. He decided that if a video starts playing in Avery's room, in the room that gives even me claustrophobia, with him kissing and touching and doing whatever the fuck he want to me, would be the best possible torture for him, and therefor, it would be the best possible torture for me as well.
Reminder; Cut Chad's balls out.... And feed them to him....
Bianca, however, probably had the lamest torture someone could ever give to another person; hitting them. Everything, while wearing six inches long nails that she had to be careful not to brake.
And Steve. Fucking Steve who fucking sold his fucking gang for the fucking South. What a fucking traitor.
Smartass; Just want to remind you that you wanted to quit the gang and River wanted to take Morgan Archer down.
Me; Now, out of all times, is not a good time.
Smartass; OK....
He decided the old methods work best; electric shockers, hot iron sticks, knife blades, cutting in skin with scissors, drowning, you name it. You know what he said; he said that in honor of the great Morgan Archer, he wanted to use his top five torture methods. See the irony? The asshole is using them on his oh-so-dear Morgan's daughter.
I've lost track of time by now, I just now that I'm in desperate need of something to eat. Although I've slept a bit every now and then, whenever I've lost the fight to sleep, how stubborn I even was, I feel how black bags are starting to show up under my eyes. Whenever I look at my wrist, I get disgusted by how thin they seem, and for the past whatever time that has went since I came here, my energy and power has lessened much. I practically can't even lift a cup anymore. An ugly one, with a heart on it that it's written "I love Chad" on, that Chad was "nice enough to bring for me even though it's against the rules, but he'll do it anyways". If I wouldn't be so thirsty, I wouldn't have even drank a drop of it, but I did. I couldn't bare it, even if my pride is long way gone now.
Also; I broke it when I was done.
"Do you wanna know what day it is?" Keira's voice breaks my bubble of thoughts, that are the only ones preventing me from going insane.
If the voice of the assholes around me would be the only ones I'd hear, I'd go mad before I even stepped foot here, which got me thinking; I've made a good job tolerating Chad's voice the past months that went, because it craves patience, and talking to yourself helps. "December three."
"So what?"
Honestly, I do care what day it is; it helps me as well, but I'm not gonna show it.
"Happy birthday," she says and gives me a piece of cake.
My birthday. It's my fucking birthday, and I'm not spending with my friends in a café, I'm fucking kidnapped.
