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Battering the walls and the doors did nothing but split her knuckles and leave her bleeding with no one to soul-suck in order to heal herself.
The walls of the hospital had long gone dark and crumbling as Svetlana wished pain on every single person who had thrown her in here. She had lost the reason to separate truth from fiction yet again. And in her mind, Peter Kemp had stolen her daughter from her. He had tricked her into loving him only to betray her and steal her daughter away.
She had been sequestered there for a year or so, and less and less often did Peter come to visit her while she hurled curses at him from her spot, chained on the bed as she was when he came. Less and less did anyone come to see her. The only one who came now was Thomas, and he was the one man she would never harm.
She had killed Thomas once. She couldn't kill him again.
The screaming and the pounding and the clawing of her own skin made her tired and she would fall asleep in odd corners or even under her bed, curled up in a dark little ball, dried blood in her hair and on her skin.
She only cried with her back to the door so no one could see her. Her tears would leave salty trails on her cheeks she never bothered to wipe away. She had no one in the world who lived her. Even Thomas spent all his time trying to assure her that the betrayal she believed in so vehemently wasn't real. That she was seeing things where they didn't exist. He couldn't understand why Peter would lie to her, but Svetlana knew it was because he was a dirty little monk who was full of nothing but hate.
She couldn't wait for when she would have the chance to try to dig his heart out of his chest again. She knew she would fail, but it was the trying that she craved. To have blood and meat under her fingernails as she listened to his screams.
So she would wait. Wait until she could catch him off guard. It would happen some day, and she had the rest of forever.
The walls of the hospital had long gone dark and crumbling as Svetlana wished pain on every single person who had thrown her in here. She had lost the reason to separate truth from fiction yet again. And in her mind, Peter Kemp had stolen her daughter from her. He had tricked her into loving him only to betray her and steal her daughter away.
She had been sequestered there for a year or so, and less and less often did Peter come to visit her while she hurled curses at him from her spot, chained on the bed as she was when he came. Less and less did anyone come to see her. The only one who came now was Thomas, and he was the one man she would never harm.
She had killed Thomas once. She couldn't kill him again.
The screaming and the pounding and the clawing of her own skin made her tired and she would fall asleep in odd corners or even under her bed, curled up in a dark little ball, dried blood in her hair and on her skin.
She only cried with her back to the door so no one could see her. Her tears would leave salty trails on her cheeks she never bothered to wipe away. She had no one in the world who lived her. Even Thomas spent all his time trying to assure her that the betrayal she believed in so vehemently wasn't real. That she was seeing things where they didn't exist. He couldn't understand why Peter would lie to her, but Svetlana knew it was because he was a dirty little monk who was full of nothing but hate.
She couldn't wait for when she would have the chance to try to dig his heart out of his chest again. She knew she would fail, but it was the trying that she craved. To have blood and meat under her fingernails as she listened to his screams.
So she would wait. Wait until she could catch him off guard. It would happen some day, and she had the rest of forever.
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