mortissix

Catrina opened her eyes only to find more salty liquid roll down her face. Her lashes that had been delicately coated with black mascara now felt as though her tears were dipping from their edges. She turned her face and let the bruise press into the red painted wall. The demons that haunted her only in the seventh depth of her soul, now ran free. Their havoc and guidance led her far from her righteous mind, and she pushed herself up by her palms. Rising to her feet, she shook out her hair.
She bent over and slowly began to unfasten her shoes. They slid off her feet quickly and toppled onto their sides against the carpet. As soon as the shoes were off she began to jog down the hallway. Her mind fogged heavily and more emotions fluttered from within her eyes. The light blue that seemed to line her pupils had been washed away with the streams. Some sort of definite pounding pumped its way into her heart, and the blood flowed as still as the nonliving.
Every so often she stopped to check and see if she recognized the part of the house she was in. And every so often, she didn't. Finally she came across the end of her hurried trek. Her feet glided over the smoothe marble floor and stopped infront of the door. Catrina pressed her face into the french door and sobbed into it, smashing her features slightly. She reached down with both hands and jerked at the knob furiously, pushing aside all fear and refilling it with anger.
The door banged back and forth against the door frame and she looked down at the handle. It seemed unlocked, but to be sure she turned it the other way. Yet again, she let the peice of neatly carved wood slam back into place. Cursing she took a step back and froze. There, inches away from her face, was a hand holding the door. The fingers stretched strongly outward. The destruction that hunted her only in the sixth depth of her soul, beat down against her will to move.
She turned her back and began walking away hurriedly. Catrina felt him behind her. She felt his breath against her neck. She felt his readiness to pounce. A grave dug itself deep inside of her stomach and hurled itself six feet under her flesh. She turned acutely and pressed her body against a door, and forced it open. She ran inside and threw the it closed behind her. She breathed heatedly and spun herself in a semi-circle. Her eyes studied the closed door, and even though she knew the outside world was blocked, she felt the intensity.
The room seemed musky and fogged. Her eyes were hazed and drownd by an unseen cloud that spiraled its way around her body. Shaking, her body threatened to overload itself. She was too confused for her own good. She wanted to leave. She even admitted to herself, for the first time since she was younger, that she was scared. The pounding in her temples and chest could simply back that thought up quite easily. Her eyes gazed at the floor, and it's rough surface reflected itself up at her with wonder.
Catrina could almost feel the splintered harshness scrapping and penetrating her skin. She shuddered at the thought of the small pieces of wood being trapped inside her flesh. Swallowing, her face turned and she studied the rest of her surroudings. There was a bed that was the size of a cot and had an old torn quilt thrown over it. The room was a stiff and akward tan color, and the wood that hadn't been painted was a deep meloncoly brown. The room was empty, besides the cot and window that was only a looking glass for spider webs. Of course, the floor and corners were swept away with the dust and many dead bugs, who's shriveled bodies curled into worried heaps.
The moon floated in through the window and mesmerized the room in a curious way. The room itself was hideous and plain, but with the right angle of a reflecting glory it shone brighter than any star that was thrown into the visible galaxy. The silence broke, and the streaming light hesitated. There was a tapping at the door. It rapped in the fifth layer of her restless soul, and she drew in a deep breath as it drew in her.
Catrina quickly dropped herself against the floor and slid up under the bed. She pulled down the covers over its sides so she could be basically invisible. Silently, she prayed to herself. The tapping continued, and over time it seemed to become louder and more obnoxious. It became a pounding and she heard the door rattle. Tears flowed into her eyes again and she continued to pray.
Her eyes pushed open and she gasped. She weaved her sight inbetween the underboards of the bed and almost sobbed again. Smashed under the mattress, there was a body. Its neck was flat and its flesh that had once been hanging almost completely detacted from the body was shriveled and dry. The skin had seemed to thin fiercefully and its eyes sank into its skull.
Catrina tried to move but instead broke out into a breakdown. Her body shook horribly and her breaths became raspy and short-lived. Forgetting she was even under she bed, she tried to sit up and hit her forehead against one of the rotting planks. It cracked, and the mattress threatened to fall down on her. It creeked inside the fourth layer of her weary soul, and she screamed out in frustration and fear. The dead man's head tilted at her and she studied it with wide, breathless eyes. She broke out into another spasm and the bed collapsed ontop of her.
From the impact of the fall, the dead body had seperated. Its arm lay across the bundled heap, but the head only rolled its way next to her own. The splintered wood dug into her face and ribcage. Spiders that had been sleeping and nesting under the covers now wildly crawled over her and into her open mouth. She gagged and spit, crunching their bodies with her tongue and teeth. Their tiny body parts swam in her spit and she threw up on herself, her body trying desperately to get out from under the heap of wood and cloth and the mattress.
She could feel prickles washing themselves over her tongue as living spiders crawled deeper into her mouth. Her eyes were too blind to see and focus, for they brimmed with crystal tears. They oozed down onto her chapped lips that were cracked and bleeding. Catrina tried moving her good shoulder, then her bad and found that it had popped out of place again. Pushing that thought aside she tried heaving the mattress off of her with one push. Instead, it came back and hit her in the face. It smacked the third layer of her tormented soul, and she tried to swallow her fear but instead, swallowed a mouthful of spiders.
Catrina pulled her body from out under the pile and keeled over on the dusty floor. She gagged and watched in horror as she regurgitated bugs and her previous meal. Her stomach heaved and she realized that her muscles were receiving spasms again. Trembling, she crawled over to the door and put her hand on the knob. She stopped and stared at her shaking fingers. Even without touching the door she could feel someone was still trying to get in.
Refusing to stay in the room any longer, she burried any negative thoughts and pushed the door open. She stumbled out and fell down against the fancy rug. Her throw up was matted in her beautiful blonde hair, and spider intrails lay in small stains on her clothes. And as she looked up, she noticed there was nothing staring back at her. It poured its soul into the second layer of her soul, and she looked around quickly.
In the next room, the one with the large throne like chair she had first seen Alicard in, the velvet curtains swayed silently. The moon strode in through the window and curled up against the red material. And before the first layer of her soul could be demolished, she ran up the stairs and into her bedroom.