Nuclear Rage
EXP: 64,948, Level: 10
Level completed: 99%,
EXP required for next Level: 52
Am I just like her?
Tears pounded the cold floor as her storm cloud grew. Dark grey clouds of gloom, thunder of violent self loathing.
I can’t be like her!
Her forehead was pressed against the cold floor. Her back throbbed as the exhausted girl completely fell out of function. She… needed a moment…
Can’t be her shadow!
She was nauseous. The feeling that urged her to rid herself of bile still was not that strong. Her stomach was left with stone heavy feelings of sickness. Putrid, filthy, disgusting…
No!
Her tears were amplified as she crumpled. Like a rose which barely hung on, and finally let go. It was not over, yet… it sure felt like it. So she would not mind being left to rot. So starved, so exasperated, so tired, so lost… Leave her to perish, in her unhealthy mentality she would of cared less. The emotions she avoided for so long lunged at her at her weakest. Degraded to what she was, a fragile child, the girl felt to full effects of her own trauma induced anxiety attack her own home. It was a cycle she still failed to realize she had.
- She ran away from her problems.
- She pushed herself too far.
- It all caught up to her and had another panic attack.
- She ceased to function anywhere from a day to a month or so.
- She vowed not to let herself go again.
- Repeat.
These emotions were temporary, however. Not all wounds healed, they left scars. Yet, one day, she would recover enough and learn to live better. That seemed decades away from happening, however. As of now, the seventeen year old clearly needed time to recover before being nursed back to health. Locked inside her own head, insanity, the storm raged wilder than ever.
Externally, her wounds were not so bad - although still bad at all. The slash across her stomach let droplets of crimson leak out. It slightly soaked her clothes, thinly showered the floor. The scent of the boss's urine, her blood, and animal roast made her nausea worse. The taste of her salty tears, the small bit of vomit soiling the back of her mouth, was horrific. She barely felt the heavy sweat coating her entire body. Neither did she hear the worker pipe up from the other side of the counter.
The poor girl was not functioning.
It was hopeful that her new friend would catch onto the severity of the problem. She was starved and physically burnt out, now injured and suffering a panic attack. Luckily, Yvonne was shrewd and clever.
Last edited by Flamebird; 05-01-2018 at 12:06 AM.
"I can't be proud of anything. I am ashamed of everything."
"I gave my heart, my allegiance, all my energy for this and got nothing but ashes in return. What on earth did I do to deserve being chewed and spit out like this? Time and time again, it's all the same."
Felicity Playlist.
