ᏀᎥᎱᎢᎬᎠ

So… I ditched my story Speechless and incorporated it into this one.

Dedicated to Charlotte 

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“As long as we know we’re trapped, we still have a chance to escape.”

Charlotte Lynch stared at the bleak landscape outside of her window, sighing softly. The shadowy forest and gloomy skies didn’t help the atmosphere of her sparsely furnished, cramped room at all. She crossed the grey-stroked room to her lumpy mattress in a few strides and plopped down, glancing around the room.

A rickety old chair leaned against the wall, looking as though it could shatter into splinters any second. The only other thing was Charlotte’s bag carelessly tossed into a corner. It contained her few belongings that Belinda and Karan had not taken. They viewed those things as worthless junk. Things not worth keeping.

The fourteen year old had long chestnut hair framing an elfin face, then cascading down her back in delicate curls. A few freckles were scattered around her nose, just below a pair of aqua green eyes. She would have been lovely, if not beautiful, if she had been put into a caring foster home. But this was not the case.

Her foster parents-or masters, as they called themselves-constantly ordered her to do arduous work. And it was showing. Instead of gleaming, her matted hair hung in lank strands around her face. Her freckles stood out noticeably against her deathly pale complexion. Weary lines seemed permanently etched into her face, and bags shadowed her eyes. They had a hopeless look in them. As if she had already given up.

Charlotte’s skin was laced with scars and purplish blotches, a result of the many beatings she had received. Her clothes, stained and in shreds, hung around her frail shoulders, always slumped in a defeated posture.

“Charlotte!” The voice of Belinda screeched from downstairs.

“Go collect firewood. The axe is outside.” The booming voice of Karan ordered. Quickly, Charlotte rushed down the rickety stairs, arriving at a halt in front of them.

“Karan,” Belinda whined, turning a pleading glance on him. “I told her to make a dress for me. And she didn’t.”

Her husband nodded absentmindedly. Then his expression hardened. He scowled at Charlotte and started walking forward. And lunged.

Karan’s immense weight collided with Charlotte’s weak body. She crashed to the floor, watching him with a fearful glance. Trying to crawl away, she felt sharp nails gouging into her arms. “Don’t run away,” Belinda hissed. Blood started to trickle down her arms, dropping into a pool underneath her feet.

Karan drove one massive fist into her. She flew across the room like a ragdoll. More blood. More bruises. More scars. When would this torture end? She couldn’t wait. When it would be black forever. When she would slowly bleed to death, until she felt no more. She would treasure the oblivion. Much preferred over the pain.

Pain.

Pain was the only thing in her life. No happiness. No sadness. No anger. Just pain and depression.

She staggered to the door, leaving a trail of blood behind her. She had done this many times before. The carpet was all but obscured with crimson stains.

Belinda and Karan let her go with a satisfied smile. They would never push her to more than this. After all, where would their little slave be if they did? Lying cold and pale six feet under the earth.

Just find some place to rest. Find some place to die. Charlotte repeated the words over and over in her head. She couldn’t go far. There was an electric fence twelve yards into the woods.

Raindrops started to pound on the roof, trickling down the gutters to the wilted grass. It seeped into her clothes, mixing with the blood and washing it away. But it couldn’t wash the pain away. It never could.

Charlotte lugged the axe along with her. She would find some place to go unnoticed, where Belinda and Karan weren’t watching. Then she could be free to end her misery. To sink the axe into her arm, rewarded with a fountain of blood flowing out, pouring onto the ground. She could be happy. She could be with her parents.

And like them, her death would be mysterious. No one would know what happened to her. Except Karan and Belinda. They would be the only ones to see her, arms on her chest, wearing bloodied clothes, a faint trickle still coming from her wounds. She would have a serene expression on her face. She would finally be free. Escape from all the pain.

Pain.

The pain was what drove Charlotte on, to keep her moving and stopping her from ending it in the view of Belinda and Karan. They would surely stop her. But she wasn’t moving on logic now. Only instinct.

She stumbled to the forest and soon came upon a clearing. Lush emerald grass sprouted up from the ground, cheerful flowers growing amidst the green. Crystal clear water cascaded down a rock ledge, landing in a pool sprinkled with dainty water lilies.

It was so beautiful, so awe-inducing; Charlotte could only stare in wonderment. This ethereal clearing was like a beam of golden sunlight shining through a stormy sky. The perfect spot to die. The perfect spot for pain.

Pain.

She snapped out of her trance and started walking towards the waterfall. She wanted to feel the frigid water washing over her scarred palms, to have one last sample of beauty to carry over with her. She wanted this clearing to be her last lingering memory.

Charlotte waded into the pool. She slowly glided over to the waterfall. So close now. She edged forward and felt the mist spraying over her. Then she toppled forward. It seemed as though she was falling.

Her last thought was the clearing. Then everything went black.

Was this death?

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Thanks

 

CHAAAAAAAAAAR!!!!!!!!! Yes, you're suicidal

 

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My first attempt at suicidal violence…

 

I shall update soon!

 

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Well, it's not their fault. I mean, it's my fault because I like the name Angela so much 