She felt darkness descend upon her-the loss of consciousness from the excruciating pain. She was determined to erect a barrier around her mind, to protect herself as best she could. She slipped over the edge of pain and found that the onslaught did not stop, would not stop, instead it grew stronger. It caged her within its claws, leaving her world as a blur beyond the sphere of pain enveloping every inch of her body. Her eyes, the mirrors of her soul, winced with every movement. Writhing in pain beneath imperceptible chains that held her down, she cried for help with only silence to be found. Torture. The pain was unbearable, the defeat was undeniable. She was to give in. But would the pain ever truly stop? It flowed within her veins, breaking bones with a simple touch, bursting blood vessels with every breath. Tears made their way down her ashen cheeks but they merged with her pallid color and you were blind to see. She screamed as pain shot through her body--like being stabbed with a thousand knives at the same exact time. Would that be coincidence? Leave a pinprick, leave it bleeding. Maybe for a split second the blood could somehow alleviate the pain. Wrong. A single pinprick sends pain to each nerve and she shakes uncontrollably in pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Does she know anything but pain? I suppose not.
But she�s just a fictional character that developed within the boundaries of my illogical mind. Or is she? Perhaps it was just a dream or perhaps the girl is me. A prisoner within my own torturous mentality. Or simply an overactive imagination craving for something to write.
