Heavy Gore TW

Bee sat in her room, twitching and convulsing as she wallowed in her own self-doubt and loneliness. Terrible, violent thoughts swarmed her head as she sat, staring blankly at the wall. Oh how lonely the monster was, sitting there. Nobody was there to comfort her. Nobody cared enough to comfort her. Nobody she previously knew could help. Nobody would save her from herself.

She began to breathe heavily, choking on her saliva as her thoughts worked her up. She couldnt get away from the nauseous feeling in her throat and stomach. The feeling of being unworthy of love, the feeling of being nothing. She balled her hands up into fists, beginning to slam them into the hard tile, yelling out in sorrow and pain. She deserved to be in pain, she deserved this. Nobody would care if she got hurt. Nobody was there to care.

She began to violently beat her head against the wall, yelling out shakily as blood dripped from her forehead and down her cheek. If she got hurt nobody would mind, nobody would care. If anything it would amuse the others that peered in. Harder and harder, her horns chipping off in big bloody chunks and getting lodged into the skin in her head as she beat herself. The deserved this. She deserved more than this. She began pounding the wall with her small hands as she continued, entirely loosing control as blood splattered infront of her from the crack in her skull. JUST DIE YOU DISGUSTING MONSTER YOU DESERVE IT

People came to watch, spectating her from a distance and taking amusement in her immense pain and mental suffering. It made them laugh, happy to know that they werent her. It was all funny to them. It was all one big joke. They watched as the monster lost consciousness, slipping away as the pain messed with her brain. They took notes, inspecting the bloodshed with smiling faces. The only reason she was alive was because they needed her.

She was just an object, something to be used whenever convenient. Something to boost other's careers, to be used and then put away. That was fully her existence. To be used as a object. She couldn't take it anymore. It was too much, she couldn't live this way anymore.