#* daniela

The chill that crept in was enough for her to look back at the door, swinging slightly open in the late night breeze, the cacophony of sound from beyond tempting her back into the light that would help her fake it through another day. She could do this. She would do this. Just as she had every other day - a quick side note to find Dylan, she still had some cash left for the week and undoubtedly, nothing would be more beneficial to her than anything he had on offer. Daniela couldn’t let the high wear off, it’d been almost five years and she knew that was one thing she wouldn’t handle well. 

The lightbulb overhead swung back and forth on its cord as if it’d only just been switched on and she paused, for little more than a moment trying to listen out for someone else within the shed, looking to scare her. But nothing - nothing but music and screaming and the ethereal giggle of people that reminded her she needed to get this shit done so she could go back to being careless. So careless, in the way she’d once again lashed out at Marcy - spilling things she’d never spoken aloud to anyone but Parker. Careless, in the way that she’d drink herself stupid and hopefully find Jesse in the dark of his living room to fuck away the pain. How did one satisfy themselves while ruining every aspect of their life without any real intention? Each way she turned, she seemed to set ablaze a life that could have been more. Water. Apples. Fucking focus. 

Turning the tap off with a certain new breath of life, Daniela plastered on a smile that could have fooled anyone, reaching for the crate of apples that sat upon the bench only feet away, it hit her like a brick. The buckle in her knee as it was kicked in from behind spliced sharply through her leg as she slammed into the concrete, “What the fu..---” the finality of her outrage falling short as a hand ripped through her braids, gripping with vice like strength to slam her face down into the edge of the basin. It split every thought into fireworks, an explosion shooting through her temple until she saw little more than a blip of stars. Even still, her fingers curled around the metal sink, as if clinging to it would somehow keep her there forever, the water that had splashed across the surface making it difficult to find permanent purchase as the same vice like grip curled around her ankle and yanked her backwards, “Get the fuck off me,” she kicked, once, twice - a third time, and was met by nothing more than darkness, as something hard, solid and sharp, smashed down against the back of her head.

It’s fleeting, no more than a few moments, that her head swims and the light comes back to her in a blur. Daniela can’t tell if she’s still within the confines of the shed, but the ground feels solid - cold, and all she can see is the back of whoever drags her by her legs - hands trailing behind, even as she tries to claw at the ground. They stop, abruptly, and though they turn - crouching down over her, she sees nothing of detail. Nothing she could remember, the mask in place of features skewes everything and she whimpers in some attempt to scream. The opportune moment they’d been waiting for, as they pressed the apple into her lips. Almost gentle at first, until she refuses, her head falling wayside. Fingertips - gloved - grasp at her cheeks, pressing in until Daniela feels the pain splinter across her jaw and she cries out. It’s a strangled cry, cut short as the fruit is forcibly caught between her teeth.

The heaviness she feels in her arm as she pulls it from the ground, trying to grasp at the mask is pointless as they return to full height - and though she already feels lost, she’s suddenly caught up within a swell of dread like she’s never felt before. Terror builds within onyx hues, and silently, she pleads with her attacker. Though, much like each attempt she’d made to claw her way from the depths of darkness, it was to no avail.

A shoe comes down against the apple with such force it’s indescribable. Teeth shatter, pushed inwards by the pressure and she tastes blood in the back of her throat. Coughing as the fruit presses deeper and her jaw yields to the pressure. Quickly, she struggles to draw air into her lungs, between the swell of blood and the apple jammed so deeply it blocks her airway. 

Tears flow freely - but she isn’t crying. It’s fear, manifesting the only way she can manage as her body refuses to react. The wound at the back of her head making thought and action impossible to collide. There’s no hope left, hair ripped from her scalp as she’s once again dragged to her knees, the whole world pulsates in the same way the back of her head does. She’s caught within the attempt to see through the fog and pulling limply at the grip they hold her with. Fire burns at the corners of her mouth, the flesh of her lips pulled taught and ripping as she heaves and fights for air, blood and saliva drip past her chin, splattering the ground she kneels upon. The sound of metal, and splashing water comes nearer, the chill as it spills over the lip of the bucket against her thighs tells her everything she needs to know. The murmur she manages is little more than a squeak beyond the apple jammed in her throat, still, she coughs and splutters trying to find a moment of strength that can bring her back from the edge and when something presses into the back of her head, pushing her forward, Daniela fights it, as much as she can.

But her energy is spent, shattered in the blinding light of pain and a swinging bulb that once screamed at her to run. All at once, she bites down against the apple, hoping it might split further and topple from her mouth, yet all it does it inflict an ache that lights everything in white hot flame, every nerve ending shooting excruiciating pain into the back of her skull, as her world is quickly silenced.

Panic is all she knows. Panic and the blurred sound that the depth of water pulls her into. Hands grip at the edge of the tub, pushing with all the might her exhausted frame offers her, but there’s nothing to give. Nothing that isn’t immediately taken from her as she is pushed so far into the water that the bubbles that rise with every attempted scream, hit the bottom before they rise. 

Fingernails tear against the tub, against the concrete as she kicks at the unknown, every movement drawing another breath from lungs that cannot take it. Blood and water spill, and such a hold becomes impossible.

Everything, becomes impossible.