Stitching the Rotted

The jacket rotted away with my flesh as both were leaned against the cold, blank walls of a dead cell. There was no end to my running. No end to the snickering and hisses of laughter that surrounded me. I no longer had a name. I no longer knew my true self. Caged within an empty abyss.

But still the hunt for me was on. And though the path was endless, there was no place for me to hide. Just taking the time I had to breathe and rest was risky enough. Though knowing better than anyone that running away from them was useless, I had no other purpose. It was either run, or be erased.

Being erased…

Just the thought sent chills down each part of my spine and rattled my old bones. I still had no clue as to why being erased was so bad, but something deep within myself flickered and flared up at the idea of such a thing.

Forcing myself up I wanted to scream out in pain at the already bleeding wounds I had gathered from a previous battle just earlier before my mad run in attempt to find some way out of this hell.

The hisses of laughter through stitched mouths had me jumping at my shadow each turn I took in the dark. I’d stumble into a stump and trip over a root.

And yet no matter how long I ran and how far, there was no hope for me. There never was even a prayer form the start. The words of my mother were true. There was no hope, no help, and no prayer to be answered.

The ugly and scarred face of one’s voice stopped me in my tracks. They were done toying with their prey.

It stepped forward, mouth stitched up with thread, bleeding at the corners as it gave a slow smile. There were no eyes on its face. Just two black, soulless holes where they once watched from.

Its hand crept forward me, pointing a single finger as it hissed a laugh through its sewn lips.

This one taunted me alone as I pressed my back to the wall and wanted nothing more than to see that tunnel with the light at the end. Any light at that time would’ve eased my death.

Two hands grasped my shoulders from behind me in the darkness and I bit my lip to hide the whimper that would’ve escaped if I had not stopped it.

I begged for a prayer as they huddled around me, laughing away. Each was horrifying and worse than any childhood nightmare I could conjure. Nothing could’ve made anything right. I was destined to die. I had just entertained death’s puppets. And now here they were, pulling the curtain over the end of the show. And I never got the honor of an encore.

I could already feel the tip of the blade before it came down on my pinky. And with that swift chop, it was gone. Then the other on my opposite hand.

I didn’t fight when they shoved me to the ground and tied me down. I didn’t cry out. I never shed a tear. Destiny and fate are cruel. They carry out what must be done.

The blade came down yet again, removing each finger from my hands before removing my wrist themselves. And they laughed and chopped away at my body, slicing my toes clean gone.

As they removed my ankles, I glanced at the sad image of my shoulders and the carved damage the damaged the cleaver had brought to them. Bloody tears strolled down my face as they left my thighs intact and everything above it.

It took all three to lift me as they carried me to a tree and drove stakes through my shoulders and thighs.

 The cleaver came down upon my skull and I watched as they carried my brain across the forest to a body unknown to me. It was stitched together just as they were, and probably just as heartless.

Blood trickled down my face as it rolled down and over my broken nose. It dripped down to my lips where I could get a taste. It was bittersweet. Just like the end.

The one from before without the cleaver smiled slowly at me once again before placing its palm to my chest, just above my heart.

Each finger tore apart each rib as I bit my lip and closed my eyes. My chest was wide open, weak heart beating in the darkness.

It petted it softly and cooed before laughing again and tearing the organ from my broken body. My scarlet lifeline gushed from my chest and pooled on the ground below from where I hung.

The one with the cleaver returned some hours later as I watched them painfully sew my heart and mind into the other, unmoving voice.

It cut into my throat, but there was no more blood in my body to run out of the wound.  I was nothing but a soul in a shell.

Turning my gaze upon it, the vision in my left eye vanished as it gouged it out and it was my turn to smile. I let my cracked lips rise in protest as I whispered quietly.

“You may have my body. But you will never have this soul.”

And with that, I felt the last of its rage slice through me and I welcomed the light that followed.

Author's Note

I was up till 2 writing this. It wouldn't stop haunting me.

Reviews

[Imara]

Your first sentence you say that you are leaning against a wall and then in the very next sentence yous say that you are running.
"..scarred face of one’s voice stopped me in.." One's should be someone's. One's is used when you are referring to yourself in a less personal way.
"... where they once watched from.." I know what you're trying to say but there is a better way of saying it.
".. It was bittersweet. Just like the end..."I love this line with such a burning passion that you don't even know.
Such a gruesome story, really scary. I really regret reading this after eating lunch! Haha, I love how you clearly state that it's hopeless from the very beginning eye the reader roots for this nameless character the whole time. Even as she's being chopped up, she's so strong and just takes it knowing it was going to come. I loved it so dark and yet "bittersweet" because in the end she still wins. Awesome Job :)

[Broken Hearted Faux]

Basically the whole story takes place in her head. That's why she's leaning against a wall. She's fighting with the other voices in her head to discover her true self. But they keep wanting the body and taking over

[Imara]

Oh I see it now. You could probably make that more clear by adding some more description in the beginning :)

[Broken Hearted Faux]

I could, but that's too much work x3 and I've been lazy with senioritus the last few days

[Imara]

Haha, I feel you're pain. It's a lot of work. Much easier to not change things XD

[Dark Angel ~]

Why you haunted by scary stuffs? O.o

[Broken Hearted Faux]

^^' Idk. When I'm in the dark, in my room. It kinda comes to me. Ive been into really dark and creepy stuff lately and I want to draw one of these Voices, but that's just it ^^' I can't draw so instead I write about them

[Dark Angel ~]

....

[Broken Hearted Faux]

...is that bad?

[Dark Angel ~]

No...

[Broken Hearted Faux]

..............

[Dark Angel ~]

.....

[Broken Hearted Faux]

....

[Dark Angel ~]

*kiss*

[Broken Hearted Faux]

*kiss* ^^