She felt the slight, dull pain in her throat that always seems to be there. He had made sure of that. He, she didn't know who he was anymore and when she thought about it, she didn't know who she was anymore either, or how she had ended up there.
That place, where no one helped her, where there seemed to be no way out and no hope.
All she knew was him with his brown, almost black hair, the constant indifferent, almost satisfied expression on his face when he made sure that she never forgot him and the hopelessness, the pain. The pain that he inflicted on her body, when he drew the knife across her throat until her life energy filled his hands and brought color into his life. But whenever her heart became lighter and the pain completely engulfed her until there was no room for anything else, it disappeared.
Because as often as he split her skin, he brought it back together again. She didn't know how, but she would never be able to escape.
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