67Please, someone save me! I don't know how much longer I can hold on!
Every time he comes to me, I come closer to completely loose the fight for my sanity. I must escape; I don't want to be this! I don't know how much longer I can keep convincing myself that I don't want to be what he is.
Someone, please save me, or at least give me the chance to save myself!
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Aimee's eyes were open wide in the dimness of the room, and they reflected the light of that ever-burning torch. She lay on her little blanket curled up in a tight ball, staring absently at the wall in front of her, the sides of her mouth throbbing.
As a reward for her successful kill of the young girl two days ago, her master had stitched her cheek wounds up so they would heal faster. They still hurt like hell, and would leave nasty scars, but Aimee didn't care anymore. She was tiered, she was sick of it all, and all she wanted was for it all to end.
But she didn't want to die. No, she still wanted to life. For the past forty-eight hours, very vivid flashes of memories had been running through her head; all of which were good memories of love and freedom, of familiar faces and warm voices. Now more than ever, the battered teen wanted to go back to her previous life, and forget all this ever happened.
However, she had neither the physical strength nor the mental strength to do so. All she had was a growing feeling of panic in her chest, and very frightening vision of what would happen if she stayed.
Aimee knew more than well that she would only live if she ran, but also knew there was much at stake if she failed to make it out.
Turning over on the thin blanked, the black-haired teen sighed, glancing at a bowl of cold soup lying nearby, which she was unable to eat because it caused violent pain in her mouth. She shut her eyes, cutting out the flickering light of the flames, and willed herself to sleep.
Her body was extremely tiered, but her defences warned her that if she fell asleep she would be vulnerable. Shrugging off the feeling of insecurity, the girl decided it would probably be easier to heal her broken mind in the world of dreams.
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She slept for perhaps hours, or days or even months. God knew.
At times she would wake up grudgingly, and she could almost swear He was lying next to her, whispering evil words into her ear, but it may have been just a dream. Other times, she would wake up very suddenly, screaming her way out of a terribly real nightmare, before passing out because of the pain in her mouth.
All this time, the girl was unable to eat a bite. She was becoming steadily skinnier, her skin was getting a very sick grey tinge and she was barely able to move. Her exhausted mind was starting to create scary hallucinations, trying to rid itself of all the stress and pain.
Aimee would scream as shadowy demons laughed all around her and children with their eyes ripped out played hide-and-seek in the darker corners of her room. Every now and then she'd see him, but she didn't know if she was just imaging his presence, or if he was actually there.
One day she found him staring at her, sitting across the room from her, his eyes entirely black, like a monster's. She looked at him fearfully for what might have been hours, until she gathered the courage to whisper: "Are you real?"
As soon as the words left her mouth, he jumped towards her, bellowing like a demon, and raped her violently as she screamed that he was not real, that nothing had ever been real. . .
With no strength left in her body, she passed, hovering between life and death in a sort of coma.
Aimee woke up a bit later to find the man feeding her carefully, a frown on his face.
"Wouldn't want to loose you, princess. . ." He kept saying, but for all she knew, he was in her imagination as well.
Reality was dancing so closely with her fears that she couldn't tell one another from the other at times, although she felt like she was starting to fight her hallucinations off. Her skin seemed to return to its normal, pale white, and she found she had more strength in her.
One day she got woken up by him, and let him feed her something that tasted like chicken. That day she knew she was starting to grow stronger, because she was not feeling as depressed as she had before her hallucinations.
Her sickness must have allowed her to think things through; to make up her mind. And indeed, her mind was made up. She would not stand for this; she would be strong. She would escape.
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"Aimee. . . wake up, little lady. . ."
Her eyes split open almost angrily. She gazed at the face of her tormentor with what was pure spite and fury, making him smirk as though he was amused. He did not see her as a threat.
"Oh, I see you've got your old flame back. . . good; very good indeed. I was worried for a moment that I had broken you so easily, and I would need a better challenge. But don't worry, little princess. I'll get to you. It's always the toughest ones that become the most fierce and dangerous killers." He assured with joy, helping her up.
Surprised, Aimee swayed slightly, trying to find her balance, as he slowly pulled her out of the room. His words had put doubt in her mind: was he right? Was she actually gonna become a worst killer because she was harder to break? With a note of panic, she realised he must have been taking her to another room so she could kill again, or worst: torture someone like he so lovingly did.
The girl immediately showed resilience towards leaving her safe room and dug her bare heals into the ground, trying to stay behind. Amused, her master only pulled her harder, and Aimee realised just how weakened her long rest had left her.
She must have been sick long: her mouth was already pretty well healed and her muscles had thinned incredibly because she had not used them for a long time. This was no good sign; if she did not have the strength to escape today, she knew her mind would not be able to cope with another murder or rape.
Praying desperately for salvation, Aimee thought wildly about an escape plan, but her anguished mind was unable to come up with anything intelligent. He kept pulling her towards the end of the long corridor; to a door she could not remember ever going through.
Even with her quiet but restless attempts to get away from the door, she finally reached it, and her master pushed it open with his free hand.
Aimee staggered back as a blinding light hit her eyes: the light of day!
In a moment of blind realisation, she understood he was bringing her to his own living quarters. But why?
Well, no matter the reason, it could not be a good one, because he would not risk her escaping unless he was sure this final act would shatter her completely, and make her into a killer.
It was now or never.
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Kill me for the cliff if you must.
IMPORTANT: There is like a chapter or two left here, but you have to go read the other two twisted chronicles to understand it fully. I'll have to get further in the 2nd and 3rd before I can finish this story. PLEASE go read the other two, or you won't be able to understand the upcoming sequel to all 3 Twisted Chronicles, which will be excellent, dark and full of mystery. Now review this and go read the others.