The sun shone bright into the window as she began to wake from a bad dream. It wasn't always like this, but it happened more than once a week.
Not only was she unable to move, but the beds were wet with sweat. They were wet with tears, lust and memories that wouldn't be forgotten.
She turned her head, so it would face the side of the room. He couldn't see her this way, he couldn't see her hurt. Her toes slowly began to crease, tingle and she felt the shivers all over.
It was lunch time, she needed to get up. Unable to do so, she began to moan, and her mind was vivid. As one hand slid out of the bed, the dog noticed and wandered over.
He looked up, his mind open to the world. It was another day, another day in hell. His ribs, sickly thin, his eyes open from sleep deprivation. He couldn't sleep, he wouldn't.
He tugged at her hand, he slipped his heart under the blanket, his soul crisp.
Another hour went past, she was finally able to move. She swung one of her legs out from the bed, as her whole body ached to be loved. She began to stand, her feet hot against the cool floor.
She sat up, eyes tired and hair tangled. In the mirror stood what appeared to be her body, but it was so far gone. This wasn't her, it wasn't real. She was dead inside. How did this happen.
The cracks in the glass helped cover the blackness of her skin, the disbelief this had happened to her. A single tear ran down her cheek, sly, terrified. Her hand limp by her side.
Her chin tilted as she stood up. She grasped the side of the bed, as her strength was limited. The dog, rustled next to her for support. Could this get any worse, no.
She walked towards the mirror and stood there for 5 minutes, tracing her fingers across her body. He eyes,dark with sadness, her skin pale, toes and fingers cold.
Her bones stuck out like a sick baby. The patches of dark bruising made it almost impossible to stand without pain. Her legs bare, chipped and possibly broken.
It had been weeks and no one had noticed her disappearance. She began to cry, but this was normal. This was what happened. This happened everyday.
The clock struck 5pm. The day had gone, it was already getting dark. She picked herself up from the floor, she had collapsed. Again.
She knew she was going to get into trouble, she was meant to be dressed. She was meant to be ready. At this point she was still naked, she couldn't gather the strength to put clothes on.
She was raw, soulful. The dog knew it was coming, he sat in anticipation. His face drooping, almost ready to give up. She tried to focus, she needed to. She needed to wake up.
He couldn't see her like this. She walked across to the box of clothes, all of them still dirty. She rummaged through them, trying to find something red. It was Friday, it had to be red.
She knew what would happen if it wasn's red. She couldn't find it, there was nothing. The dog had snuck away now, hiding next to the curtains. Waiting. She began to hear it, the noise.
The alarm, he was coming. Panic struck, it made the pores of her skin tingle. Surely not, he was early. Help. Help me. This was the only thing running through her head.
The first door opened, the key entwined by the timber door. The feet, strong on the earth, coming closer and closer. This was it. There was still nothing red, nothing. Panic had eaten her alive.
What if she was to use the other clothes, would that work? She ran over to the other side of the room, the one place she was trying to avoid. But it was too late.
Her hands grasped at the blood stained dress as she reached down. It was red, it would work. She did what she thought she never would, undress the body. Leave a stranger naked, cold and dead.
The smell was unbearable, but she did it. She undressed the body, now it was her turn.
The door opened, the dog was gone. The only human left, sitting at the end of the bed, dressed in red. It was perfect. He stood there, boots on. His fist curled next to his pant pockets.
This would do. He walked over to the bed, reached out his hands and flicked the hair out of her face. God she was beautiful, she was perfect. She would do. Her eyes became hazed, lost and cold.
Her skin shivering. His heart pumped blood, very bone told a story. Let me in, let me in to this mind. Please. He was unable to show his love unable to prove himself.
His nails dirty, hair greasy, body thin and disheveled. This was life, this was it. He reached up to take her, to make yet another mark on her.
He began to think of how it was, how his mind had changed. As he thought, his leg began to tingle. He turned around to see the open door. He had done it again, messed up.
The doorway of the room, left wide open. He heard the voice, the voice of a small human. He had ruined it, he panicked.
A small boy stood naked in the corridor, his eyes focused on the room. This was where she was. It had been 3 years since he had seen her. His eyes locked with hers, almost afraid.
How had he managed to escape. His tiny fingers pressed deep against his stuffed bear. Lost. He couldn't speak, he just looked. Was this her? The door slammed, as the man walked towards him.
He began to cry, his mind wasn't ready for this. It wasn't. The bear dropped to the ground, as he did. His feet curling, his hands limp.
The door slammed, the light off, the cold air cushioning his fall. The darkness had begun again.
Both doors were slammed shut now, never to be opened again.
He just wanted to be heard. He couldn't love them like he use to, so he kept them a secret. They were his. No one would ever know. This was his own fairytale, his own sick horror story.