06-01-2017, 02:00 AM
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please, i just want to go home - muse for this appeared to me at 3:00am
hadley's pale cheeks stained wet with tears of sheer exhaustion. her prison was nothing but a white space or at least, that was all she could remember. her body hurt. she couldn't recall why. every time she looked down at her body there was a new bruise or cut that was stitched close or a scar that had not there before. these tiny invasions continued on no known schedule except that they did not stop. they never stopped.
stop! please stop! my cuts won't heal you bastards! leave me alone!
she lay against the side of her cage, if you could even call it that. it felt like it was a circular room but she could not be sure. she hardly slept, the brightness of whatever pale fluorescent light source kept her awake until she could physically take no more. until she collapsed. until her conscience human mind was bendable and feeble. she would do or say anything, just to get some sleep.
do you know what that feels like? do you know what it's like to never sleep?
"please. please let me out." she pleased to the walls. the captors were never seen. only heard and felt. they prodded her and probed her leaving her limbs broken like twigs. she couldn't remember how many times she's woken from some for of sleep to find her ankle or wrist broken. oh how the pain burned. it burned like fire. she would cry and cry until her eyes could produce no more. till her throat was horse from her screams. hadley never stopped. she would make sure they knew she was in pain. not like they cared.
can't you hear me? can't you hear me scream? why do you not help me?
her hair had been cut short. like that of a military cadet. the last of her physique that reminded her of just how human she was had been ripped from her. hadley could run her hands over the buzz, wishing her brown locks will simply reappear there. they never did. each time she tried. like a eight year old, she tried to will the brown mop back into existence. often in her timeless prison she would retreat into old memories. it wasn't uncommon apparently, for those in her situation to completely lose their sense of being and hide in their past selves. hadley refused to die. as persistence was the only way to continue living.
please daniel. they are killing me. where are you? where did you go?
sometimes hadley found herself aimless mumbling things, like an asylum patient would. then again, who was to say she wasn't as asylum patient. after all, being in a white prison felt as if it were. she suddenly couldn't remember what her street address was. "no no no." she cried. she knew she had to remember something like that. but other waking hours would kill other memories. she lost what model her car was. she lost her cat's name. hadley could recall owning a cat. she knew she did. what was he called again...
you're taking my memories now! no! you can't have them! i won't let you
"i won't let you..." she mumbled. 'i won't let you..." pink hair. he had pink hair last. it was soft and fluffy. he was tall. really tall. he was like a tower next to a princess like her. he thought she was a princess. he wore soft shirts that always smelled of lavender. he went camping with her. he drove a car older than she was. he liked her cat. and space. he loved space. he loved space almost as much as she loved her.
daniel, im sorry.
hadley closed her eyes against the harsh white glare. it had always been too bright. everything was burning. her skin had felt the sting of one too many cuts, her mind the burning of one too many breaks. hadley was losing touch and she knew it. this shouldn't of happen to her. it never should of happen at all. had to die or surrender. there was only two options, and even they had taken the option of death away from her. she had one choice. hadley scrunched her limbs together, lying in the fetal position, defeated. suddenly the grunge voice of an old women appeared around her, it seeped through the captive walls in a condescending tone. "its all right miss morton. everything is going to be fine. now tell us: what is it that you know about aliens?
please, i just want to go home - muse for this appeared to me at 3:00am
hadley's pale cheeks stained wet with tears of sheer exhaustion. her prison was nothing but a white space or at least, that was all she could remember. her body hurt. she couldn't recall why. every time she looked down at her body there was a new bruise or cut that was stitched close or a scar that had not there before. these tiny invasions continued on no known schedule except that they did not stop. they never stopped.
stop! please stop! my cuts won't heal you bastards! leave me alone!
she lay against the side of her cage, if you could even call it that. it felt like it was a circular room but she could not be sure. she hardly slept, the brightness of whatever pale fluorescent light source kept her awake until she could physically take no more. until she collapsed. until her conscience human mind was bendable and feeble. she would do or say anything, just to get some sleep.
do you know what that feels like? do you know what it's like to never sleep?
"please. please let me out." she pleased to the walls. the captors were never seen. only heard and felt. they prodded her and probed her leaving her limbs broken like twigs. she couldn't remember how many times she's woken from some for of sleep to find her ankle or wrist broken. oh how the pain burned. it burned like fire. she would cry and cry until her eyes could produce no more. till her throat was horse from her screams. hadley never stopped. she would make sure they knew she was in pain. not like they cared.
can't you hear me? can't you hear me scream? why do you not help me?
her hair had been cut short. like that of a military cadet. the last of her physique that reminded her of just how human she was had been ripped from her. hadley could run her hands over the buzz, wishing her brown locks will simply reappear there. they never did. each time she tried. like a eight year old, she tried to will the brown mop back into existence. often in her timeless prison she would retreat into old memories. it wasn't uncommon apparently, for those in her situation to completely lose their sense of being and hide in their past selves. hadley refused to die. as persistence was the only way to continue living.
please daniel. they are killing me. where are you? where did you go?
sometimes hadley found herself aimless mumbling things, like an asylum patient would. then again, who was to say she wasn't as asylum patient. after all, being in a white prison felt as if it were. she suddenly couldn't remember what her street address was. "no no no." she cried. she knew she had to remember something like that. but other waking hours would kill other memories. she lost what model her car was. she lost her cat's name. hadley could recall owning a cat. she knew she did. what was he called again...
you're taking my memories now! no! you can't have them! i won't let you
"i won't let you..." she mumbled. 'i won't let you..." pink hair. he had pink hair last. it was soft and fluffy. he was tall. really tall. he was like a tower next to a princess like her. he thought she was a princess. he wore soft shirts that always smelled of lavender. he went camping with her. he drove a car older than she was. he liked her cat. and space. he loved space. he loved space almost as much as she loved her.
daniel, im sorry.
hadley closed her eyes against the harsh white glare. it had always been too bright. everything was burning. her skin had felt the sting of one too many cuts, her mind the burning of one too many breaks. hadley was losing touch and she knew it. this shouldn't of happen to her. it never should of happen at all. had to die or surrender. there was only two options, and even they had taken the option of death away from her. she had one choice. hadley scrunched her limbs together, lying in the fetal position, defeated. suddenly the grunge voice of an old women appeared around her, it seeped through the captive walls in a condescending tone. "its all right miss morton. everything is going to be fine. now tell us: what is it that you know about aliens?
[align=center][div style="width: auto; font-size: 9pt; font-family: arial; color: black; letter-spacing: 1px;"][i]etherial, almost ghostly ― [color=black]info