In a Room of Crazy

The thick, red blood runs down my cheek and onto my shaking lips. He laughs a pleasurable laugh and walks back to his easel. My struggle and fear only interests and promotes his acts of violent wanting and so I decide to calm down. Why did I say it? His literal approach to such misleading words turns to this? What will become of me now?

He begins to paint on the sad face that shows. The tape wrapped around my mouth, blocking the air. Tears roll down, seeking deep into my cut, burning.

" Don't struggle, it will only hurt more," He says as he glides his brush on the paper. I try to find where the tape has been cut off, but I can't. I look around at my surroundings. He is just a boy, he is just a crazy boy taking me hostage. He was a bit older than me, I'm tide up on his bed. I see that his painting is almostfinished, he's painting me. The blood clearly shown on my face andthe fear painted on so realisticly. I stare at it as he gets up from his chair. Such an attractiveguy, why does he have to do this? He walks to me and rips off the tape from my mouth. I feel the sting as if he peeled the skin off my upper lip. I cringe and then tear up. I stare at him as he sits next to me.

" Please, let me go," Iplead.

" Hm, whatshould I do to you next?" He asks.

" Just let me go,please, I'll do anything," I say. He begins to laugh.

" There you go again, yousaid you'd do anything."He laughs again and touches my face. Imove my face away as his hands put a slight sensation down my cut face.

"Stop!"I yell.

" Let's clean you up," He says walking out the room. As I wait for his return I cry once more. He returns with asoaking cloth and wipes down my face. Hethrows the bloody cloth on theground and strokes myface once again.

" What do you want, honestly what do you want?" I ask.

"Ijust want to fulfill yourwishes. You said you'd do anything to beloved. Isthis your anything?" He asks. It's all coming back tome. Last week I told my friend about how Iwould do anything to be loved. I'd even give up mydreams andhere I am, regretting those exact words. Why didI say that? I didn't know anyone was there when I said it. The hallswere empty, they had not a person in them, yet there was one.He was sitting on an empty bench, how could he have heard me?

" Please, I didn't mean what I said," I yelled.

" Yes you did. Would you die for love?" He asks pulling out a knife and feeling it's point.

" No!" I yell at him.He puts the knife to the tape and cuts my legs loose, but he holds me down.

" Don't move, if you do, you will die," He says putting the sharp knife to my face. I see him undoing his pants, slowly pulling them down. I realize what he is going to do to me. I struggle as he holds me down. He gets over top of me and I panic. I kick my legs around, but he sits on top of them.

" Don't do this to me!"

" Sh, don't be so afraid. I won't hurt you." He puts his pants on the ground and begins to tug at my pants as well.

" Don't, please!" He slides them off my body and throws them down. He smiles and looks at me. I am about to be raped. I don't want this to happen. I don't want this to happen. I am just like the others. The other rape victims, so afraid, so helpless. I will be just another. Just another with a story to tell, yet what makes me so different. I'm so scared.

" Are you afraid?" He asks.

" Don't do this to me, you don't have to do this," I beg, hoping my words will convince him. They don't. The pain rushes through my body, he was inside me. It didn't feel right, why did he do this? Why me? Why did I say those words? They made this happen to me. As he puts my clothes back on I cry. He brings out a box from his closet.

" So, let's play our final game."

" Stop, haven't you had enough." He shows me the box, it's full of things.

" Ok let's choose. Do you want me to slice a line up your arm so you can bleed to death, or how about I blow your head out, oh maybe I can beat you to death, that would be fun. Hm, how about you choose."

" No, I don't want to die, please!" I yell.

" Pick!" He slaps me across my face.

" I don't want to die, I don't," My hysterical cries don't convince him. He puts his lips to my lips and brushes them.

" This is fun, don't you think?" He ask.

" Please, I'd do anything."

" Ok, let's go with the gun!"

" No!"

" Ok, fine the cuts!"

" Nothing, please I'd do anyting!" I cry out.He takes out a blade and cuts my wrist across. It starts to bleed, but the cuts aren't deep. He licks the dripping blood and leaves a bit to run. He takes his fingers and wipes the blood across my face.]

" My final master piece," He says. He walks over to his painting and puts it down on the floor, next to the bed. He squeezes my wrists, letting the blood flow out and he takes a finger and paints the blood on. His fingers slides right down the middle and he smiles.

" Is that funny?" I ask.

" I'll miss you." He puts the picture next to me and holds me down.

" Please," I say one last time.As he lifts up the blade I shut my eyes. I feel nothing, I open them up and see as the blade is stretched across his neck. The blood shoots out as if a gun exploded threw him, his hand lets go of the glass blade and he falls on top of me. He grasps my shirt and pulls himself up.

" I love you," He tries to say as he slowly dies. Letting the sick man die, I stare at him.

" Goodbye," I say rolling of the bed. I attempt to open the door and finally get it open by using my feet. I lay on the floor and twist my feet around the knob. I roll down the stares carefully and see a whole family in a room, talking. As roll to them as their eyes grow big. It was his family, the blood stains the floor as they run to my side. I was another victim. Just another victim, you can't imagine what I've been through. Even though it was painful to live through, as the memories haunt me I forgive him. I forgive.