Work Text:
The harder you scrub, the redder everything becomes, the deeper the scars etch themselves, the closer you come to your fragile end. The water cascades across the plains of your bloodied hands, but it won't save you.
(You are not a monster.)
His choked last breath echoes off the walls around you and all you can see is his face, his eyes widened in surprise - a look of betrayal, as if you were lovers, as if you shared a secret. You watch him die, knowing he thinks you are your father's daughter.
(You are not a monster.)
The water should calm you, should bring you some sort of renewal, but this is no story laced with poignant symbolism. It will not wash away your fears.
You must become everything you need.
(You are not a monster.)
The room fades to silence as the water stops running, and you can hear something clog the pipes, forcing its way through. You cock your head to the side, but you don't scream when blood gushes out, filling the sink in a pool of lies.
Blood. Blood everywhere.
You can't escape who you are, a familiar voice taunts, his accent deceptively saccharine.
You ignore the part of you that wants to dance and coat your skin with this red sin.
(You are not a monster.)
A knock on the door.
The spell is broken.
"Abigail?" A nurse. "There's someone here to see you."
You take a deep, silent breath and stare at your reflection in the mirror. A frightened porcelain dolls stares back at you, lifts up her hands to the mirror, tears of blood sliding down the glass. She smiles, sending a shiver down your spine.
(You are not a monster.)
"Just a second!" you call, willing some sort of strength to seep back into your decaying bones.
You open the door unprepared to face the true monster waiting for you.
(The monster's eyes are red.)