I wasn't sure where to post this, since it's not exactly fiction...
It's something I wrote to help me with...some things. I don't know. But it's something that happened in my life a couple years ago, and I want to improve it before I show a certain someone. I don't have much practice with more...poetic writings, so I thought I'd get some critiques here.
It's rated 12+ solely for subject content.
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The room was dark.
Pitch black save for the cold moonlight pouring in from the sliding glass doors.
A sunlight basement sapped of all the warmth the sun brings.
A girl stood alone in one corner, no older than 15, glancing around.
She knew this place.
Her breath quickened as she heard the familiar footsteps sneaking down the stairs.
The door swung open quietly, the man leading the young girl by her wrist into the room.
“Here we go again,” the girl in the corner thought to herself.
She began to cry out to the other girl, also 15.
“No,” she croaked, her dry throat protesting. “Please not again.”
But she knew it wouldn’t matter.
It was the same every time.
The pair continued on as if they hadn’t heard her. As if she were invisible.
He led the girl to the bed. His stubbly face caught the light, and his age was revealed.
The invisible girl began to hyperventilate.
“No!” She screamed.
The other girl lowered herself to sit on the bed. Her entire being seemed to exude anxiety.
“Why do you keep doing this?!” The girl in the corner sobbed. “Why do you keep hurting yourself like this?!”
The man sat down beside his victim on the bed.
“Why do you keep hurting me like this?” The invisible girl whimpered.
The man began to speak. His voice was high and reedy, although he spoke in whispers.
“Why are you crying?” He asked the girl on the bed beside him, as he stroked her cheek.
“I wish it wasn’t you,” she sniffed softly.
Something shifted in his expression, if only for a fraction of a second.
He looked like a small child who paused as he wrote on the walls, wondering if what he was doing was wrong.
But as soon as it had come, it flashed away.
Replaced by an unreadable expression, as he lifted her shirt over her head.
“NO!” The invisible girl shrieked. “Stop! Please!” She gripped the sides of her shirt in anguish.
The girl on the bed laid back slowly, sighing softly in a resigned way.
He followed her.
“NO NO PLEASE!” The girl in the corner fell to her knees, sobbing, clutching her sides, trying to hold at least a fraction of herself together. Her forehead hit the floor with a soft thump as she sobbed loudly into the carpet.
She sat up in bed quickly, a rasping gasp sucking in the morning air. The invisible girl was no longer invisible. She was awake. Drenched in a mixture of tears and sweat, she breathed heavily for a moment before flinging her head off the side of her bed, her empty stomach heaving uselessly and painfully into the bucket she always kept there.
After she’d finished, she took a deep, rattling breath.
“Time to start another day.”
