𝐑𝐨𝐭 ( 𝚒𝚗 ) 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

Sleep was meant to be her place of refuge, a safe haven from the world's wickedness that she had no control over. But each night, it taunted her like a malicious spirit, beckoning her into its enchanting arms before hauntingly scurrying away as the door shut behind her. Curled into this wretched corner of the bed, she tucked herself back into its depths and let her head thump wearily against the wall in silent reprieve. As she lay there in the stillness, watching the mesmerizing cobwebs dance above her in the soft push of the ceiling fan; a comforting sense of serenity washed over her for but a moment. A chill ran through Bella's body as she considered the length of time that had been spent sleepless and restless, her side-glanced eyes watching every ticking second more that passed on the wall clock. She was much too familiar with her bent and worn notebook nestled in her crossed arms and knees; it felt like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the bleeding words of her heart.

You can still feel the sting when he hit you, feel the way your heart hammered in your chest when you knew you were going to die.

With another sigh, she shifted her cheek to rest against her knees, trying to find comfort in the position. Laying down was off the table; someone could easily take a shot if they broke in. Instead, she remained vigilant of everything around her – with one half-step between her and flight – never allowing herself to feel fully vulnerable again. How long had this been her reality?

The slicing sound of the knife to flesh still echoes the gurgle of blood that he spit onto your face while laughing.

As she wearily opened her eyes, Bella was met with the glittering red and blue emergency lights that shone from the building across from hers. The window had no curtains, and only a few slats of the blinds were functional. The two tapestries on the wall behind her bed brought some color to the stark white walls; otherwise, all she owned was a metal-frame bed, a chipped wooden dresser, and a standing mirror. She wanted to decorate more but her anxiety kept her from accumulating too many possessions; she had been living life with nothing more than what she carried in her backpack and wore on her back for so long that having even one place to call hers for more than minutes at a time felt overwhelming. The momentary lapse in dreaded emotions allowed her to ponder if she had a distant past in which her childhood innocence hadn't been poisoned by the paranoia that had taken over her body and mind like an infectious disease. She desperately tried to keep this deep-rooted fear hidden behind a fraudulent laugh and satisfied smile of nonchalance.

'You'll never get rid of me, Risona!'

Weeping digits, exhausted with sorrow, traversed her forlorn features. Ancient kohl smudged her skin in dark reminders of grief, as she pressed her palms in a desperate attempt to hold back the ephemeral tears that bubbled up from the depths of her soul. Aching, wishing to escape this reality and take flight into something entirely different, yet the only response was a faint whisper of mocking laughter that echoed off the walls of her desolate chamber. Desperately turning her head searchingly, all she could see was herself reflected back in the tall mirror – alone in solidarity – inhabiting an environment that seemed too cruelly barren for its occupant.

She'd sat in the tub for hours scrubbing the red stain from herself screaming at the perfect white tiles she was staining in her sin.

Cravings for sleep felt like choosing to have the blood return to her hands, the horrid metallic smell of iron, and how warm it felt when it pooled under her feet. Fleeting thoughts enter her mind during the day, but they become a tidal wave at night. She'd pound her head trying to quiet the inner noise, but when that failed she'd turn to her guitar on the floor. Drawing it into her lap was all it took to lay the groundwork; as soon as her hands started plucking strings, an uneasy feeling in her mind was relieved. At first just random sounds would come out, but then a melody began taking shape—each low thump of her wrist against the hollow body adding more depth. The feel of nimble fingers caressing those strings felt like a soothing balm for her soul, alone with the music that poured from the agony locked in her heart. She carried a burden of guilt and letting it go seemed impossible; either lying through the pain or entombing herself alive. An act of self-defense, kill or be killed had resulted in a life cut short – yet here she stood.

'I'm gonna fuckin' haunt you forever!'

As her delicate fingers moved in a frenzy, an electrical storm of emotion surged throughout her. Bella played her guitar with newfound fervor; the deep strings slicing through the air and breathing life to their forgotten abode as if it had been waiting for a savior. As she confidently maneuvered between plucks and heavy strums, the hypnotic sound brought her to a time now distant. She could feel herself being dragged by her heartstrings back to memories - both treasured and mourned – within the cascading melody that descended from beneath her fingertips for this audience of one. Thoughts become warped as bittersweet tunes string together, but an elated feeling snapped her out of her reverie. Fingers danced over chords, eyes closed as she added more layers to build upon it, prompting her to hastily open her notebook and capture it all before it slips away. It doesn't take long until she's pushing her guitar out of her lap in favor of leaning towards her book on the bed, looking over the score scribbled messily across the pages that bleed with salty liquid, and digging her phone out to send a text to Jaxson.

"I'll see you on the other side, baby..."