For wallflowers and those who belong nowhere

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❝𝕻𝖗𝖆𝖊 𝖟𝖎𝖗 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖊. 𝕱𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖒 𝖟𝖎𝖗 𝖋𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖒. 𝕰𝖘𝖙 𝖌𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖚𝖒 𝖜𝖍𝖚𝖎 𝖛𝖔𝖓𝖟 𝖓𝖚𝖐𝖊.❞

"The past is the past. The future is the future. The Present is who I am now."

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Prologue| Monstrosity, And Lunacy For Eternity

TRIGGER WARNING

This chapter contains strong violence, blood, cutting off limbs, and loss of loved ones, which may not be suitable for some readers. Discretion is advised and stay safe.

Otherwise, enjoy reading.

❝𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙.❞

We were all protagonists in our own stories. To some, we were the hindrances in their paths. However, she was the villain for all.

Tired footfall echoed in the dark, empty hallway and only she could see from the dim light of her dying torch that she was holding. With a limping leg, she leaned on the nearest wall she could support herself. She tried to flap both of her feathery wings but to no avail. They were broken and almost got removed from her back by that sinister man.

She briefly looked back from where she came from and continued to drag her own battered body when she found nothing of suspicion. Maybe she had lost him, but knowing her pursuer, he wouldn't give up just like that. She'd rather expect him to play with her around like a stringed, ragged doll, than hope for him to just let her go.

She let out a shaky breath, stopping for a moment out of exhaustion, and with gritted teeth, she urged herself to resume moving. "You can't die here . . ." She mumbled to herself, the small fire of the torch swaying as she took a heavy step forward. "You need to find them . . ."

Stumbling upon something she didn't see-probably a corpse-her body planted to the cold, bloody floor, and the only light to guide herself in the dark died when the torch fell out of her grasp. She could hear the object rolling away from her as her vision plunged into darkness.

"Damn it," she uttered in a frustrated voice and mustered all of her strength to get up from the floor. She leaned on the wall, standing up to her feet despite her trembling knees, and clumsily moved ahead.

"Oh, there you are." A voice in a pleased tone said, but to her, it sounded dreadful.

Chills ran all over her body, and her heart leaped to her throat and hammered loudly. She felt cold sweat form like beads on her forehead, neck, and back, and she fastened her pace. She knew from the start that this attempt at escape would never succeed. But she tried anyway because there were others waiting for her.

A cold, slick hand landed on her nape, making her freeze on her spot, and she trembled, frightened. The hand slowly shifted to her neck and the man embraced her from behind. His skin on hers felt like millions of ants marching all over her body. She wanted to scratch it. Scratch him. Burn him.

It was unbearable.

"Where do you think you are going, hmm?" He whispered in her ear, his voice chilling and dark. He tightened his grip on her neck and mercilessly slammed her to the floor, making her cough in pain. He got on top of her and quipped, "What a fool you are for thinking you'd get away."

"Go die . . . wet sock," she croaked, glaring albeit not actually seeing him.

Upon hearing her insult, he laughed maniacally. His nails dug into her neck she hissed but stopped before he made her bleed more. He moved from above to sit beside her instead.

"Disgustingly amazing as always, aren't you?" He caressed her cheek and wiped the blood on the corner of her lips with his thumb. "And annoyingly feisty. You make me want to hang you up on the wall for display."

The woman's face upturned into a sneer, lime eyes flickering brightly with spite. "Spare me your empty threats, for your severed head will be the one put on exhibit."

Without any second thought, he grabbed her hair, stood up, and heaved her from the floor. She gripped his hand, trying to retch it away but to no avail. He didn't even bother moving the corpses he walked over as he took her somewhere.

"You donkey, let me—" She couldn't even finish her sentence before he threw her away and rolled in a puddle. But it wasn't made out entirely of water.

From its rusty metallic smell, anyone could decipher it was blood. And from above her, how the puddle had formed, droplets of blood continued to fall.

"Here! My presents for you!" He exclaimed cheerfully and with a snap of his fingers, a small ball of fire ablaze.

She hesitantly looked heavenward and once she saw what the so-called presents were, an ear-splitting shout escaped her mouth. Tears quickly pooled in her eyes and stained her cheeks.

Lightning crashed down the white floating blights. Thunder howled its wrath. The earth trembled in misery. The heavens shed tears upon the barren land as if the vast canvas of darkness veiling the ruins had awoken.

Bodies were heaved up high on the ceiling with ropes. Some of the corpses' body parts were severed and hung up on their own. Even if the plasma ball was small, it was enough for her to see their faces. They were her family. Her loved ones.

An artwork of monstrosity. Made to drag you to the depths of lunacy. To drown you for eternity.

Continuously, the man's laughter echoed, and she covered her ears in an attempt to stop hearing it. But it didn't stop. He didn't stop. He would never as long as she was alive. He pulled her hands away from her ears and stroked her face, wiping the tears and blood off.

"You know, I'm pretty sure they'd be happy," he began with a sinister smile creeping on his lips. "I did them a favor punishing you for deceiving us all." He drew out a knife and pointed it at her left eye. "Now then, shall we continue?"

With a cry slipping past her lips, that the man heard as a piece of horrifyingly beautiful music to his ears, he picked up the threads of madness.