Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Another Forget Me Not Story

The ideas in the story also come from Jai! Silente is her character as well


The pain. Oh god, so much pain…
She squeezes her eyes shut and shudders.
Was it actually all worth it? In these past months she has felt more pain than she had in her life. And it was all because she cared. She had told herself time and time again that caring only brings pain. For most of her life it had been easy. She hadn’t even found anyone she was tempted to care about. Instead she wondered the country, exploiting and hurting other people for her own amusement and she had never once felt guilty.
But now she had experienced guilt. Her.
The guilt was the least of her pain. She didn’t feel it for her past actions. She didn’t feel it for anything she was going to do to people. They don’t matter; they are annoying and stupid.
No, she only felt guilt for hurting the person who caused her pain. The one she loved. Love. She loved someone. Silente. Silente Tempest. The one person in the whole world she actually liked.
Ever since they met there’s been so much pain…
Her breathing quickens, almost hyperventilating and her eyes fly open, looking around desperately.
The first, and the worst, of it… James.
Just the mention of his name and her heart skips a beat.
You did it for Silente…
She reminds herself this, trying to come to terms with what had happened. She had known what was going to happen when she said she would spend 24 hours with a sadist, one she considered worse than herself.
It didn’t change anything.
It didn’t matter she had been healed after it.
She laughs a cold, broken laugh.
The healing. What a joke. It didn’t make any difference. It didn’t change how she had been used, just an object, a toy, a plaything.
That would never go away. The pain and fear would never go away, even if her love blocked off most of it.
Speaking of her…
She closes her eyes, leaning back against the wall.
The event that only she remembers.
She had blocked it from Silente’s memory; it was causing her too much pain. But now she is left with the burden of the memories, trying to hide them from Silente.
How do you hide the brief feeling of terror when your love kisses you, seeing the time when she tore you apart, only keeping you alive so you can suffer more?
She didn’t blame her, she really, truly didn’t. But one’s subconscious is a powerful weapon, and it made it impossible for her to forget.
First an object, then a meal.
It wasn’t Silente. Not really. It was Erica, controlling her emotions, making her hate you.
She knows this, yet it is hard not to see Silente, tearing her apart, eating her organs and drinking her blood while she screamed, held against the tree…
The girl shudders again, hugging her knees tightly to her chest; she is trying, and failing, to hold back her tears.
That’s another thing she hadn’t done much of, before this. Now she had cried quite a lot, especially during the experiments.
This was her fault as well. She had recently come to the realization she was not just extremely sadistic, and psychopathic, but also a bit masochistic. When she and Silente were curious about how she would react to something, she would let Silente completely control her mind and make her think that event had actually happened or was happening.
They were mentally draining and almost ended with her in tears, but yet she kept offering to do them.
An object. A meal. An experiment.
That was what she was.
So. Much. Goddamn. Pain.
It would have been better if you had just not cared. Maybe killed her before you had.
That thought causes her more pain; she doesn’t know what she would do without Silente.
It’s not like you have been all that great to Silente.
That was true. She was so used to manipulating people, she had done the same to Silente multiple times, trying to get her to forget her morals.
She really did love Silente. So, so much… and while it had brought this crippling pain, it also brought such a feeling of joy and so many other wonderful feelings she couldn’t describe.
Again, she asks herself if it is all worth it.
That doesn’t matter.
She’s too far in to just quit.

Saturday, June 4, 2016

A backstory

Clara sobbed, trying to press herself into the corner without touching the long, but luckily shallow, cut across her stomach. Her dress was torn and soaked in blood. Her mind was panicked and scatter and she was desperately trying to decide what to do. What was there to do when-
Her parents walked in. They both frozen and stared at her in shock.
“Clara...” Her father said. “What -?” he hesitated. “What happened?”
She stood up slowly, grimacing. “I think,” her voice shook. A clear thought formed in her mind. Weakling. She made her voice hard. “I think you know perfectly well.”
“Clara, honey, we have no idea. Please, tell us what happened,” her mother responded, her voice thick with concern. Fake concern.
“STOP LYING!” Clara screamed, tears streaming down her face. “I KNOW YOU SENT SOMEONE TO KILL ME! TO KILL YOUR DAUGHTER”
“Clara, that’s ridi-“
She cut her father off. “NO. I CAN READ YOUR MIND. I KNOW. STOP LYING”
A fresh wave of pain washed over her and she slumped to the ground.
“Just stop lying…” she whispered.
Her parents stood over her, glaring.
“Fine.” Her father finally replied. “We did send someone to kill you. And I guess we’ll have to finish the job for ourselves now.”
“You’re not our daughter,” her mother spat. “You’re some psycho who mind controls people into doing anything for her. I don’t know what you are or how you do it, but you are not our daughter.”
How do they know about my powers? She instinctively looked into her mother’s mind and found it completely different than it had been any other time. She saw all the same memories, but in a different light. This time, instead of the love or emptiness she normally found, there was hate and fear. Her parents had realized. They realized she pushed at their emotions and had hid their true thoughts from her. She hadn’t harmed them in any way or even been in their minds all that much. And they tried to kill her. She felt hatred and anger welling up inside of her and stood up. Even though she was only eight and much shorter than her parents, they both took a step back.
She looked at them and shook her head. “You’ve made a horrible choice.”
Her father pulled a knife out of his jacket and unsheathed it. Her mother smirked. “No, I think it’s you that made a horr-.” Her eyes widen and she gurgled as Clara’s father dove the knife into her throat. Now it was Clara’s turn to smirk as she instructed her father to stab himself next. He fell to the ground, blood pouring out of his next and mingling with her mother’s. She laughed at them both, feeling so powerful while they lay at her feet. Well. Now what?
Clara looked around her room, then realized she too was spilling blood. She went to the bathroom, grabbed a wash cloth and soaked it in warm water, gently cleaning the blood off. She then bandaged it up to the best of her abilities and put on a clean, blue dress. She walked back into her room and looked at her parents again. She carefully knelt down and dipped her finger in their blood, writing “Forget Me Not” beside them. She wiped her finger on her mother’s shirt and stood up. She grabbed a draw string bag from her closet and put together a small bundle of things then left her house, her mind full of violence.