Chapter Text
That wasnt him. It had his mask. His hair. His coat. But it wasnt right
Long Black spikes protruding from his back and blood stained skin that was was to droopy to be real, too monotoned to be flesh. Bumps sprawling across like parasites. breath like static. Then our eyes locked and its pupils dilated to the sound of my crys muffled by my arm, it had to be a skinstealer. But that would mean. That would. That. That cant.
Almond felt her head ache at the thought.
She was alive. Still alive. But it felt as if her soul died a long time ago. She got out of their "alive" but at what cost? Is it even worth living if you lost the only things worth living for?
When i escaped, i came back with major injuries and i was diagnosed with schizophrenia not long after my wounds were treated. But it hurts for my lungs to breath, it hurts for my mind to think. No one thinks I'll make it.
Whats the point of living if everyone is expecting you to die anyway? I still see him.
Hes always the only color in the all white room im forced to stay in. I hear the same voice screaming painfully loud, yet with no emotion.
Am i even seeing him, or what i thought was him?