I walked into a room full of nature, flowers and vines stretched up to the ceiling hoping to find the sun there, but there was nothing but a broken chandelier. It was a beautiful place, almost poisonous, a place that you know, if you rip the pretty wallpaper off, it will reveal a dark secret. There you stood, among the greenery, your back turned to me. You slowly turned around to face me, every muscle of your body tensed as you did so. I could finally see the edges of your sharp jawline, little hairs beginning to grow, telling you it was time to shave. I used to run my hands up and down that scruff, pretending like it was something that calmed me.

Your smile made me uneasy, as you fully turned toward me. You stretched your arms out, revealing the scars on your arms, the marks of your pain. I walked up closer to you, embracing your open state. Your chin rested on my shoulder, but I couldn't stop thinking of all the other shoulders your chin felt. All the lies, all the carelessness. You never told me that I was important, I shouldn't have assumed that. Still, you had the ability to make me feel like I was special, or perhaps it was me pretending like you did. Then I couldn't stop seeing your hand intertwined with hers, as you looked at me with that evil smile of yours, as if you knew exactly what was running through my head and you enjoyed every second of that pain.

A knife appeared in my head, and running my fingers up your back I found the weakest spot, driving the knife into your flesh, feeling the blood ooze out of it. You fell on the grass, without closing your eyes, I took the knife out. This time a billion other pictures started to run through my head, other people, other faces, you with them. It wasn't all innocent like holding hands, some of the images were more graphic. The more graphic they got the harder I hit you with that rusty knife I had. You just watched me carve pain into your body over and over again, as if you were enjoying that sensation. I dipped my fingers into your chest, more specifically the wounds in your chest. Tasting your blood, I ran it across your jawline, marking your lips with your own blood. You whispered yes, and I watched every curve your body made, as if seducing me and calling me into the terrible sin of your life. I felt hollow, empty, broken. You smiled, picked yourself up and grabbed my shoulders. I was suddenly naked in front of you, and you admired me, but seconds later you laughed. I grabbed your throat and choked every drop of laughter out of you, pushing your body towards the wall. Suddenly, all the beautiful vines fell off the wall to reveal glass everywhere. You still wouldn't die, laughing at me even louder. I pushed you away and ran for the door, your blood stained my body as you grabbed my hand and tried to pull me back. The blood was too thick, I managed to slip out and open the door, closing it behind me. You banged on it, begging me to come back. I no longer wanted you, realizing that I never did to begin with. Your misery and pain made you seem invincible and that was alluring.

I slouched down, my back still heavily relying on the door which you were locked behind. I could hear your laughter, feel the pain you pricked me with. Scratching my skin, trying to get rid of your every touch, every word you commented on my body, stained in black, written by a sharpie. But, it didn't go away. It all went deeper and deeper into my skin. Of course, I am not the girl to be liked, I am not the girl to be pursued, at least that is what you told me, not until I lose a couple of pounds, put on a couple of tons of make up.

Picking myself up, I could still hear you calling after me, although I knew always that I meant nothing. Misery begot me. You ran me down.

Then I saw a light in the distance, a hand reached out to me. I hesitated, pulling back a bit. I could hear you scream at me telling me not to take that hand, but the fact that you said no to it meant that it was good. Taking the hand, I was pulled into a clean crystal place. It was another room, but this time there were mirrors in it. I could see myself naked, all my flaws layed out in front of me.

A door cracked open and someone walked in. He shook His head, giving a white robe to me. Still hesitating, I took it out of His hands and scoffed, He must hate me for the hell I went through.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, letting Him know that I wasn't interested in a lecture.

He sighed, "I know you don't want to, but you have to. Let's do this, give me that knife, and I will take it all away."

Tired of running and fighting, I felt the knife appear in my hand and stretched it out to give it to Him, "what about him?" I asked, referring to the one person I never thought would hurt me.

"You are worth more than that, I should know, I made you-"

"God-" I interrupted Him, "I am so sorry."

He smiled and looked up at me, pressing His hand against my cheek and feeling my hot tear drops fall, "I know you are. I knew it since the first day you felt yourself being pulled towards darkness. You kept telling yourself you could help him, but the more you tried to help the more you got destroyed by him."

"I know," I smirked, laughing more at myself than the situation.

He hugged me, "don't cry, people who hurt other people are just hurt themselves." Suddenly instead of seeing myself and God in the mirrors surrounding us, I saw him, the one who hurt me, but he was a child, and he was beaten and crying.