Sometimes I Repeat (Poem)

We all do, though.

Sometimes I repeat<——–Click here for Poem PDF

Written 9/6/17

 

Picture info: Finally got around to doing the watercolor over-lay of the Hunger-Demon/WallSpider as well as some grey-tone shading on Amy’s back. I think it made the overall tone a little bit dark by reducing the contrast. As much as I like contrast, too much white can be a bad thing.

FullSizeRender (13)

Daily Blog 9/2/17

Start at the beginning: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/08/27/daily-blog-82717/

Previous chapter: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/09/01/daily-blog-9117/

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This was a fun one to edit and review. The court case chapters were originally a single chapter, but were split into two parts: 6-1, 7, 6-2, 8, etc. They were seven pages, and very cumbersome. I think I’ve gotten them both to a digestible point, and they provide a lot of answers to questions posed in the early chapters. You find out what triggered the slew of events that’s about to go down in a relatively hopeful way.

It was one of the most difficult chapters to handle, due to the amount of research I had to do. I ended up watching multiple CPS related cases so I could understand the ins and outs of what I needed to portray in a concise manner. Dialogue can become very cumbersome, very quickly, so I had to pick and choose carefully what to omit. This is exacerbated by the motion-focused structure I’ve chosen to write this book in. There is a lot that happens in the decade or so that leads to what’s going on in the present. The order matters, especially when there are a total of seven characters perspectives to consider. I started with just three for act one, then cover a different group in act 2, which makes it a lot easier to manage (and understand from a flow/timeline perspective).

Enjoy!

*Explicit Language

December 4th, 2015

Hadley closed her hand around Simons, who sat to her left. She was three months sober, too sober as the jurisdictional hearing regarding Adam was about to start. The court itself was unimpressive, cheap wood and scratched furnishings. TV loves to play these things up.

A young male bailiff announced “Please rise. Honorable judge Tracy Davids is now presiding.” An old woman entered the room. “Court is now in session.”  Hadley rose, still grasping Simons hand, and studied the frail old-woman as she approached the judges stand. Her hair was a dyed light brown, her mouth cornered an ugly grimace, compounded by tens of frown-lines running up her cheeks. She wore a loose black-gown under large spectacles with a gold accent and chain securing them to her neck. As Judge Davids reached the stand, the bailiff announced, “If you have any electronic devices or cell phones, please silence or turn them off. You may be seated. Thank you.” He’s awfully chipper. 

Sitting back down, Hadley let go of Simon’s hand and started to nervously scratch her own. You can do this, Hadley. She’s human too, and a mother, she’ll understand. The Judge was shuffling papers around. Probably the social services complaint. It’s author, Gia, was sitting twenty feet to the left of Hadley and Simon. It took everything Hadley had not to try and tear her lying throat out now. But had she lied? I don’t even know what she told CPS. She was my friend, I’m being unfair.   

Voice cracking, the Judge started, “This is the case of Simon and Hadley Sheffield vs. the State of Massachusetts regarding custody of Adam Sheffield.” Thank Christ Adam isn’t here, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. “Are the defendants present?”

Simon’s lawyer rose, addressing the Judge, “Yes, your honor. Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield are seated to my right. My name is Keller Ross, and I will be representing their case, your honor.”

As Keller sat, the Judge asked, “Who will be representing the plaintiffs today?”

An older looking man rose, and said, “Your honor, I am Bill Jeffrey, and I will argue on behalf of the state.”

“Very good, Jeffrey and Ross, you may be seated.” Responded the Judge. She sounds…bored. Well fuck you too, bitch, you better do your job. This matters! As the two lawyers sat down, the Judge continued, “Gentlemen, I am Tracy Davids, and I will be presiding over this case. Now, from what I understand this case was appealed from a lower Court’s decision by Mr. Sheffield. Is this the council’s understanding?”

Keller stood, remarking “Yes, your honor, it is.” Before re-taking his seat. As the Judge looked to the plaintiff’s, Jeffrey simply nodded. Is he taking this seriously? Our case isn’t that hopeless, is it?

Jacobs pursed her lips, reviewing the document before saying “Due to the…severity of this documents implications, and the limitations of a single Judge presiding, I think it’s important to manage expectations, Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield. I find it unlikely that your son will be released to you today, however I will consider your arguments and potentially recommend this case for further review or a special conditional release, in the case I find issue with Social Services conduct in removing Adam from your care upon birth.” How dare she say his name. I just want my…my son. “I find these types of hearings to be more efficient allowing the plaintiffs to start. Go ahead Mr. Jeffrey.”

Standing, Jeffrey said, “Thank you, your honor, I’ll try to make this quick for you.” Smiling slightly, he walked forward, and continued in his monotone drivel, “Your honor, the defendants have demonstrated a clear pattern of neglect, abuse, and borderline criminal intent towards their son. All of this before he was even born!” Fuck you, you…bastard. I love Adam, you don’t know shit. “As if Gia Sheffield’s report to CPS wasn’t disturbing enough, I urge you to consider the toxicological reports, which found SMS traces of both heroin and MDMA in Mrs. Sheffield’s system.” As Jeffrey said this, he turned to look at Hadley. “As you likely know, your honor, this means it is a scientific fact that Mrs. Sheffield used both of these illegal and highly destructive drugs during the beginning of the second trimester or later. Due to this abuse, Adam was born prematurely, your honor.” Jeffrey’s face contorted into a vindictive, cruel, smile as he looked Hadley in the eye. “It’s a miracle that Adam was even born. An attempted murder case, would be far more appropriate under these horrendous circumstances than a simple custody battle.” As he finished, Hadley’s jaw started quivering and her eyes welled. He’s trying to fuck with me, I need to keep it together.

Gently, Simon reclaimed her hand under the table, squeezing twice, before tightening his grip. Hadley moved her right hand to rest on his. Thank God you’re here, Simon. Before Jeffrey could continue, Keller interjected, “Objection, your honor!”

Curtly, she responded, “Reasoning, Mr. Ross?”

Noticing the tone, Keller, exasperated, responded, “Your honor, besides the fact that Mr. Jeffrey seeks to intimidate my client by making aggressive faces at her, his argument is clearly speculative. He has no place making character assessments or suggesting a charge beyond the scope of this court.”

“She’s hardly on the stand yet, Mr. Ross. I see nothing wrong with Mr. Jeffrey’s opening statement. Please refrain from making comments about the oppositions face, moving forward.” Replied the Judge, smiling ever so slightly at Keller’s disbelief. She already thinks I’m unfit.

Chuckling, Mr. Jeffrey continued “I suppose I’ll end early, I think the court gets the gist of what’s happened here.” As Jeffrey returned to his seat, Simon’s hand tightened. Wincing in pain, Hadley looked up at her husband. His jaw had tightened, lips had folded into a snarl, and he was staring straight at the Judge. He needs to calm down, I’ve never seen that look. Hadley started messaging Simon’s forearm and kissed his shoulder.

Moving closer, she whispered, “She’s a bitch, it’s not our fault, we need to keep it together, honey. His face softened as he lowered his head in a defeated manner. I’m not sure I like that look any better.

Keller got up, approached the Judge, and said, “My clients admit they’ve made poor choices in the past regarding use of prohibited substances. But it has been stated time and again, that neither Mrs. or Mr. Sheffield realized that a pregnancy had occurred. When they did, Mrs. Sheffield immediately withdrew from all drugs that could harm her child. The test used is sensitive to the past six months, it was administered half a month after a premature birth, meaning Mrs. Sheffield could have stopped all use during the first trimester.” I tried. That has to count for something, right? “It’s widely available information that some women do not show in the first trimester, or even until the end of their second.” When you weigh one hundred and five pounds, you do. “As for my client’s sister in law, Gia Sheffield’s claims were both unwarranted and inaccurate, which I will demonstrate.” Keller moved back to his seat.

The Judge, looking unimpressed, turned to Jeffrey and asked, “Is your first witness present, Mr. Jeffrey?”

Standing, Jeffrey responded, “She is, your honor. Gia Sheffield please rise for testimony.” Hadley watched as Gia got up and walked towards the stand. She wore a modest, green dress that draped over her knees. She was a stout, uptight looking women in her early thirties, and stood at a modest 5’3. As she sat Hadley made eye contact and Gia pursed her lips into a conservative, almost sympathetic smile. Don’t give me that look, I’ve been trying to reach you for months. Gia’s eyes were a dark grey with brown accents near the center of her iris. She had a clear complexion, muted cheekbones, and a long, angular jaw. She’s pretty, nothing special though. 

The Judge recited, “Do you, Gia Sheffield, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

Wavering, in a mousy voice, Gia said, “I do.”

The Judge turned to Jeffrey and said, “Plaintiff’s witness.”

Nodding to the Judge, Jeffrey approached Gia, asking, “Mrs. Sheffield, is it true that on August fourteenth, two-thousand fifteen, you attended a party thrown by your brother in law, Simon Sheffield?”

“Yes.” Gia responded, looking down at her lap.

Nodding smugly, Jeffrey continued, “Mrs. Sheffield, could you describe both the nature of the party and what you saw Hadley Sheffield do at said party?”

Gia quickly glanced at Simon. Her face had an apologetic, almost guilty grimace. Looking back to the states lawyer, Gia answered, “Well, Simon and Hadley had just found out they were pregnant. Tom and I were really excited for them, since they’d been trying for about a year. So, I guess it was to celebrate the good news. I need to be clear, Simon, Tom, and I were having drinks, probably too many, but Hadley wasn’t. That was good, but about halfway into the poker game, I saw her go into the kitchen and take a white pill. Normally I wouldn’t think too much about it, but Tom had just had surgery to fix his L2 vertebrate, you know he lifts a lot at that gym, and I always tell him he should slow down.”

“Please focus on what Hadley Sheffield was doing, Gia.” Said the Judge, annoyed.

Cheeks flushing, Gia bit her tongue, and continued, “Sorry, anyway, after his surgery he had to take these little white oxycodone tablets. The pill I saw Hadley pick up looked an awful lot like that. So, I was worried about the baby, you know. So, around thirty minutes later, Simon and Tom went outside for a smoke break. I don’t smoke and I guess Hadley had quit for the baby. I suppose, we were left alone, so naturally we talked a little bit. Eventually, Hadley went to the restroom…” Gia paused, blushing deeper. “…and I went to the kitchen to look for the bottle, just to make sure, you understand. In the second drawer, down, there were a whole lot of bottles. I’m sure that Simon, being a big-time doctor had some stock for various reasons. But on top of the pile was a bottle of oxycodone, and it wasn’t prescribed to Hadley.” No…I don’t understand! Fuck you! Wasn’t your god-damn place to snoop around our private property. Bitch…

“Who was the bottle prescribed to, Mrs. Sheffield?” asked Jeffrey, looking self-satisfied.

Pausing a moment, seeming to not want to continue, Gia said “It wasn’t a name I recognized.”

Looking to the Judge, Jeffrey said, “Plaintiff’s rest the witness.”

The Judge, face flat and unreadable, inquired, “Would the defense like to cross examine the witness.” As she said this Jeffrey sauntered to his seat. He looks so relaxed, so sure he’s got us beat.

Rising, Keller answered, “Yes, your honor.” He approached Gia, a kind, exposed look marred his aged face. “I understand, you must have been very upset, Gia. Finding out your friend, no, your sister, may have been exposing her unborn baby to dangerous chemicals?”

Eagerly, Gia responded, “I was! I was devastated! I mean, I love Hadley, and I love Simon. They are family to me, and they’ve always been the nicest to me out of Tom’s relatives. I couldn’t believe it. But I had to file a report to CPS, I didn’t want to, but for Adam’s sake…” Friends? Friends would ask for the context before shouting off to CPS.

Nodding empathetically, Keller continued, “Under those circumstances, I’d be a wreck. I’d probably have a hard time knowing what to do next, too.”

Jeffrey stood, suddenly, and shouted, “Objection! This is speculation!”

The Judge, smiling, responded, “Questioning sustained.” Shows him right, maybe Jacobs isn’t a total cunt. That was bad, I need to work on my language, getting too jaded…

Nodding at the Judge, Keller continued, “Now, under the circumstances, you were upset. Rightly so. What you describe, the entire drawer of pills, is concerning to me. Yes, you saw Hadley take a white pill, and yes the oxycodone you found was white. But as exhibit c-7 clearly shows, eight of the seventeen pill containers in the drawer contained white pills, four of which are similar in size and shape to the oxycodone. One, of particular interest, was a folate supplement prescribed to Hadley.” As Keller said this, Gia’s face paled. “As you likely know, having had a child, folate is extremely important to the development of the fetus. Most new mothers are given this prescription. Now I’m not saying you did something bad, but considering the sheer number of pills in that drawer, wouldn’t it have been prudent to simply ask Hadley what she had taken?”

Gia’s pallor had taken on a ghostly hue, as she responded, “I…when I took folate, it was a green pill. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

Smiling kindly, Keller continued “I understand your confusion, but you see, Hadley was taking a concentrated form of folate, folic acid, which is generally sold in a white capsule or a white tablet casing.” Damn, I see why Simon wanted Keller so bad. 

Gia’s brow tightened in distress as her eyes welled up. Scrambling, she wiped her eyes, looking to Hadley, and pleaded, “I had no idea, I’m so sorry Hadley, Simon. I didn’t know.” You should have asked, Gia. Feeling a sudden pang of sympathy, Hadley nodded at Gia, smiling in slight reassurance. Some color returned to Gia’s face, as she wiped the tears from her cheek.

Looking to the Judge, who seemed more engaged at this point, Keller stated, “Defense rests, your honor.”

Head hanging, Gia pushed herself up and returned to her seat, avoiding Jeffrey’s gaze. He was giving her his look. Clearly, he’s unhappy with how that unfolded. Not so cocky now, eh? Maybe we aren’t screwed after all. Hadley looked to Simon and saw a thin, hopeful smile on his face.

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Thanks for reading!

Next chapter: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/09/03/daily-blog-9317/

Daily Blog 9/1/17

Start at the beginning: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/08/27/daily-blog-82717/

Previous chapter: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/08/31/daily-blog-83117/

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Chapter five brings us back to Silgan, and the main plot. He and Alex arrive at their “workplace” and are briefed on today’s “client”.

*Explicit language warning  

Enjoy!

V

Present Day

Silgan secured his briefcase, careful not to knock Alex’s tool box off of the seat, and opened the door. Immediately, the below-zero November air assaulted his eyes, nose, and hand. I love that sting, the numbing chill. Stepping out, he observed his surroundings, hearing Alex’s door open behind him. In front of him, an unmarked building that looked to be a re-purposed lumber mill, abandoned and ominous. Looks like a God-damn horror house. Various tools, covered in supple, fresh, snow were scattered about the floor.

As Silgan turned to close his door, Alex mused, “Gotta love these Rhode Island winters! Makes a man remember what life feels like, don’t it?”

“That’s one way of looking at it.” muttered Silgan, frowning. The pair started to walk towards the semi-frozen glass doors as the car pulled away. I don’t like this.

Alex gave Silgan his best “suck it up” look and said “Man it ain’t you we gonna work today, not yet. Gotta be thankful for that, at least.” Better than working a kid, you brute. 

Annoyed, Silgan responded “For a man from the south, you sure don’t know when to shut up. I’d give anything, short of die, to not have to do what we’re about to.”

The anxiety started seeping through Silgans muscles, as a chorus of voices became audible. “We made ourselves clear to the boss after that kid in upstate New York. Why the fuck is he messing with us.” Shutup!

“What? After all the great decisions, you’ve been making? You got us in this mess and we are supposed to keep quiet? Maybe we should make more of the decisions.” responded the voices, offended.

“Too bad the only possible outcome of you turning tail is death, aint it?” asked Alex, meeting Silgan’s eye with a knowing glare. “You good man? You look a little pale.”

“You’re worthless. Nothing. Can’t even do your job without trying to drown us, the useful parts of you, out with drugs!”

Nodding at Alex, Silgan reached for the door. The rounded metal handle was cold to the touch, but swung open smoothly. It had clearly been maintained better than the rundown mills exterior brick and the tools littering the ground.

“We protect you, you know. From the shit you’ve done, we contain it, so it can’t hurt your fragile ego, chemist. Pfft. You can’t even hurt a little girl without crying to Alex.” Mocked the voices.

You’re sick.

Laughing, the voices continued, “We know we are and so are you. You NEED us to survive, you’re weak, worthless, dreadful, you piece of human refuse. How can you be so fucked and be such a pussy at the same time? Running from us, changing your name time after time­–”

“Hey, buddy, gonna need you to focus up. Swipe your card.” said Alex, looking worried.

Confused, Silgan responded “Sorry, I’m fine.” Light-headed, Silgan reached for the RF-ID stored in his right suit-coat pocket. “This marks got me all out of sorts, the boss should have sent a different team to handle this one.”

“You know you’re the best, and this is pretty fucking important.” Noted Alex, as he shuffled into the opening elevator door. “That said, I gotta say it’s pretty unlikely she’s gonna know the creepy shit her daddies been planning. Sullie is a fucking ghost, and his family is probably as in the dark as we are.” I didn’t even realize Sullie had a family. He’s usually the one doing the black-mail, not the other way. The kind of man who’d shoot his parents to improve his image. 

The elevator was clearly much newer than the building, made of what appeared to be burnished nickel with steel. No, its texture suggest titanium. Expensive. Ding: U2–Silgan and Alex both took black latex gloves from the small dispenser on the back of the elevator shaft–Ding: U3–and started to put them on.

“Keep your head on straight in there man.” Alex said, looking straight ahead–Ding: U4.

“I know the drill. I just hope she knows something.” Responded Silgan, steeling himself–Ding: U5.

The elevator opened smoothly, revealing a dimly lit room. Stepping out of the lift, Silgan noted the observatory structure of the room. There was a chamber in the center of the room was lined on each of its four sides with glass. Probably one-way glass. The chambers four corners pointed to the middle of each of the surrounding rooms four sides, forming a diamond shape within a square. There were metal hand rails protruding from the glass, as well as speakers lining the ceiling. Those are gonna be hooked up to mics in the glass room, hard to say anything without being heard. 

A small woman sat at a desk in the far left corner of the outer-room. On his desk was an expensive looking Dill-Man laptop surrounded by various recording equipment. Really going high tech on this one. If I had any hope of getting out of this before, it’s gone now. These thoughts were further enforced by the two sets of guards in unmarked body armor holding what appeared to be automatic shotguns, with LMGs strapped to their backs. Normal ballistics, doesn’t look magnetic. One soldier stood on either side of the elevator, while the other pair guarded the entrance to the chamber.

Standing behind the small woman with the recording equipment was a tall, muscular man in a Navy blue suit. He wore dark sunglasses despite the already dim lighting. Those are probably tactical glasses. The guards have them too. He also had a wire trailing from his collar to his ear. As Alex and Silgan approached the desk, the tall man looked up, his face stoic, and hard. If his stature wasn’t imposing enough, his cleanly shaven and low cropped military hair surrounding a stone-like jaw were downright intimidating. Anabolics, hell of a drug.

“Gentlemen.” He said in a cracked base. Christ, where did they find this guy? Alex and Silgan both nodded in acknowledgment. “I’ll be briefing you today. I’m not going to lie, we don’t know if she knows anything. We know she responds to Nessa. She was captured in a semi-prison during the raid on her father’s hideout in upstate New York along-side a mutilated corpse. We think she did it with a make-shift iron hook that was lodged in the man’s glabella, just below his forehead. Her medical examination revealed she’s already been the victim of significant abuse. We didn’t realize who she was until we tested her DNA, which matched Sullies DNA. For these reasons, it is clear that she has little value as a hostage, your mission is to extract whatever she has, by any means you deem necessary, and then dispose of her.

Silgan’s heart dropped to his stomach. That’s it, then. No two ways about it.

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Thanks for reading!

Next chapter: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/09/02/daily-blog-9217/

WallSpider

This is part one of a three-part short story. It’s well within the horror genre, so, be aware. This story is an interpretation of my drawing above. Having personally struggled with OCD and an eating disorder, this story is important to me. I wanted it to display the frustration, anger, and helplessness that OCD can cause. It can be a crippling disorder, but with the right therapy, can be diminished, made weak. It doesn’t have to control you, it is something that can be beaten.

*Trigger warning: This short story contains graphic depictions of bulimia nervosa and OCD. It also contains vulgar and unsavory language. If you find this type of content offensive, for any reason, please do not read the following paragraphs.

 

I

“You really should eat more of your dinner, dear. Your mother worked very hard to make it, and these sweet potatoes are delightful!” Frank Moore said, breaking the habitual dinner-time silence. Amy examined the red-orange mash she’d mixed her roast-beef into, forming a disgusting, muddy brown mass.

To Amy’s left, a black puddle materialized on the wall, a large object slithering into her periphery. Just what I need. As she kept her eyes on her food, the WallSpider crept forward. Pausing a foot away, its steamy breath harassed Amy’s bare shoulder, before whispering “You will not eat any more than you h…have, you fa…fatbulbous…whore.” Amy bit her lip, hard, focusing on ignoring the creature.

Looking up to her father, Amy matched his forced smile, responding “Yeah, Dad. It’s real good, I just ate a lot at lunch, you know I have an easier time eating at lunch. Having Derek and Samantha around calms me down, makes it easier to eat.” That fake-ass smile makes him look like a neurotic clown, even without makeup. Frank’s grin faded, changing to his normal, disappointed perma-frown gate. Sighing, he looked to Annie, Amy’s mother, who had her head down, quietly chewing her food.

Rolling his eyes, he looked back to his own food, muttering “Can’t even have a God-damned conversation in this house anymore.”

Annie paused, stricken, dropping her silverware with a loud clank. “Frank Moore, watch your language. This is God’s table, you foul man!” Annie half-shouted, as her hands twitched and her jowls quivered in anger. Oops, looks like you pissed mom off again, dad. Thanks for that.

Frank recoiled, slightly, and put his hands up, quickly apologizing “Sorry honey, I didn’t mean to take the lords name in vein, I was just frustrated.” Annie’s gaze tightened, teeth bared, and fists clenched. Frank bit his lip before continuing. “Amy, if you’re done with your mash and beef, why don’t you head to your room, do some school-work so your mother and I can talk.” Thank Christ. Two less monsters to deal with.

Amy pushed her seat back, stood up, and walked around the right side of her chair, away from the shadowy creature. As Amy walked through the dining-room door, into the worn living room, she could hear hisses and cracks as the creature forced its way through the wall. Amy tapped her fingers against her sides, quickening her pace, rushing for the curved stairs. As she got to the base of the stairs, a large black pool materialized above the first two steps, right before the stairs curved right. The WallSpider’s ugly head pushed through the tar-like puddle, oozing magma-like goo onto the ground, blocking the stairs. Jaw tightening, Amy whispered “What do you want now? I’ve eaten all of eight bites today? One for breakfast, four at lunch, and three small ones at dinner!”

WallSpider lifted its worm-esque body a few feet above Amy, looking down at her. It never fully leaves the wall, it’s like a giant, fucking snake. The creatures lower jaw was split by what looked to be a fibrous, folding gland. Its eight eyes studied Amy, appraisingly, before it said “You’re far too fat today, b…buttercup.” Amy’s lips quivered, as tears welled in her eyes. Don’t, make me do it, WallSpider. Please. “Ta…take a trip to the bathroomfixxxs yourself, make yourself worthy, you dough-like c…cunt.” WallSpider moved a few inches closer, and opened its mouth wide, the folds on its bottom jaw splitting into two separate jaws. Its long tongue moved to Amy’s small, ravished, stomach, and traced along her prominent ribcage, before moving to her angular, overly defined left hip-bone.

“Please, don’t make me do it, I’m so hungry.” WallSpider’s tounge quickly retracted, it’s mouth opened even wider, making a disgusting, crack, as it’s jaw tore from its hinges. It started to scream. No! Not again! The sounds were simultaneously deep and shrill. The screams waves penetrated deep into Amy’s skull, irritating her inner ear, and causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground. Amy covered her ears, struggling not to scream in terror, as she curled into a fetal position on the purple shag-carpet.

As suddenly as the screaming had begun, it stopped. Breathing heavily and shaking, Amy opened her eyes, looking to where WallSpider had been. Gone. Better listen to him, though, if I want to sleep. Her parents had started to scream, viciously, at each other. I wish they’d just fucking split already. Amy pushed herself up onto her knees, wiping away the coagulated tears and snot. She got to her feet and walked up the stairs. Why does he make me do this? I feel like I’m dying, losing myself. Will I ever be pretty? Ever be skinny enough for WallSpider to leave?

Amy had to catch her breath at the top of the stairs, her legs and arms had felt like lead all week. When’s the last time I ate? Two weeks? Tears streamed down Amy’s face as she turned left at the top of the staircase, heading towards her bathroom. Amy’s parent’s screams were drowned out, engulfed by the sea of WallSpider’s approval.

Amy felt a wave of euphoria antagonize her spine, as she closed the bathroom door, keeping the lights off. I don’t want to see myself. Feeling her way forward, she grasped on the sinks counter, quickly turning the cold-tap, and taking a few gulps. Don’t want to see what WallSpider needs me to do. Satisfied, Amy turned, leaving the water running, and walked forward. She kept her hands out in front of her, feeling for the wall that separated the toilet and shower. Almost there. Her hand closed around the walls edge, and she knelt, grabbing the edge of the toilet, pulling herself towards it. Don’t want to see WallSpider, I’d rather be blind.

Opening her mouth, Amy reached for her uvula with her right hand, trapping it between her pointer and middle fingers. Gagging slightly, tears thickening, she tightened her grip and pulled the uvula back and forth. I hate this. Her stomach started to grow nauseous, she felt blood between her fingers as the persistent chaff reopened. I hate myself. Amy’s gags grew more intense as her stomach fought back, trying to retain its much-needed prize. Make myself pretty. Amy vomited on her fingers, and into the toilet. There. Done. She removed her fingers from her throat and rested her bony jaw on the toilets seat, panting.

Again, my sweet” murmured WallSpider, sounding amused. Amy’s blood ran thick, stuffing up her throat, accelerating her tears. I’ve given you everything. There’s nothing left… Amy reached her burning, acid-soaked fingers back into her throat, letting out a moan, as the dull, sticky pain returned. It was quicker this time. After a few jiggles, Amy tasted iron, tasted blood, as she dry heaved. Choking on her tears, she removed her fingers, again. It hurts so much. She fell to her right, hitting the ground with a thud, before curling into a ball. Acid dripped from the corner of her mouth, burning her pale, chapped lips.

Again, you know you deserve this…this is what you needCleanse yourself, fight to be worth something.” No! Please…God. Struggling, Amy moved her twig-like knees under her small frame, leaning back of the smelly toilet. Quivering in agony, Amy reached into her throat, head swimming as one thought blurred with another. Please…Help me…Anybody.