13 Reasons Why// Winterwatcher (Discontinued)

{27} Monster

Moon

When she woke, she was broken.

She was numb.

She was a monster.

"Who are you?" The woman asked.

She didn't want to answer. But she did. When someone asked her, she answered. When someone ordered, she obeyed. She was a puppet, dancing to a rhythm that didn't exist. She was a helpless doll, obeying her master.

"I am Moonwatcher," she replied. And she remembered her mother. She remembered the moonlight. She remembered her room. She remembered safety.

She remembered her father dying on the ground. How the light left his eyes. How he fell to the floor and never got up again. How death had tore something inside her, how she was afraid.

"Moonwatcher, let me help you."

Everything lapped together, and the colors flashed. What was this? No, it wasn't anything.

She was numb. She was a puppet. She couldn't feel anything. She couldn't see anything. Except death. Except blood. Except Darkstalker, and his orders, and the killing. And the assassinations. And her torture, her pain.

"Let me help you get out of there."

Was it happiness? Anger? It couldn't be. Hope? No. She was numb. She was empty. She was broken. Broken things stayed broken. Always.

"I don't need help," she replied. And then a flash— a flash of blue. A beautiful spark. And it swallowed her, and she was afraid of it, more than anything. "This is my home."

Hope.

Her mind danced, but not in a good way. She finally opened her eyes. She was afraid to see. She was afraid to feel. She was afraid of everyone, of everything. What was this woman hiding? This beautiful, elderly woman with soft white hair and kind eyes?

Lies. That was what she was hiding.

Moon tried to struggle, but there was nothing holding her there. She screamed, but no sound came out. She could just stare into the women's eyes, horrified.

"Yes, you do. This is not your home. I can help you." The woman gave her a smile. And it was so beautiful. Oh, so beautiful. It seemed like it was the only beautiful thing in the room, in her world. And it brought tears to her eyes.

"Who are you?" She whispered. She kept staring at the smile. She could feel her tears streaming down her face. She couldn't turn her eyes away. It reminded her of something. A boy. Rain. Tapes. Stories. Hate.

Lies.

Her tears didn't have any remorse or regret. They were empty, just like her.

"Why are you here?" She asked numbly.

The woman smiled. "Hm. In this building, I can't tell you. In this room? I'm your therapist."

"Why are you here?" She repeated.

The woman shrugged. "My, my. You won't take the nice answer, won't you? I'm here to report every little thing you say in here to Darkstalker."