• "You feel my hands around your neck tightening, tightening
    The scene before you is gruesome, it's frightening
    The dark is coiling around your limbs, their eyes are there
    Now you have no choice but to give in to this fear."

    The words rush through my head in constant motion, a wheel that needs oil before the rusty squeak drives me insane. Sighing softly I flip my hair away from my eyes, attempting so hard to pay attention. But how can I possibly take interest when the broken sable strands keep drawing my gaze? When the memory of his hatred still burns my eyes and my heart? "What is wrong with you?" he had asked. Is there anything wrong with me? "You're doing this on purpose." I can't explain myself to him, there are no answers to these questions, no responses to these allegations. Not once in my life have I ever been forced to look at myself in the mirror and wonder what to change about myself. Never have I been so uncomfortable in my own skin until I met him. I can't make him happy. I should just give up and I know it. But then, why do I feel as if I can't be happy without him? I'm so far in, I can't go back now. This madness in my mind is all I know.