Cotton Candy Fantasy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
All every person wants is money, fame and fortune. But no- no, that's just all a nice and fluffy fantasy.

Submitted: March 21, 2012

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Submitted: March 21, 2012



Cotton Candy Fantasy

Closing my eyes, I imagine fluffy white clouds and the sun shining down on me as I lay in the grass, running my fingers through it.

I see me, eyes shining bright and a smile on my face.

I wish I could never wake up from that dream, I wish I never had to face reality.

But no.

No, I have to open my eyes to dark skies and my body crying out in pain.

He shows me no mercy, he never stops to let me catch a single breath.

I used to scream, I used to struggle, I used to try to escape him- he had always been too strong.

I remember the first time I tried to escape- I had him fooled, he thought I had learned my rightful place in his god forsaken mansion of hell.

But I hadn't.

Rain had been pouring and I had smashed my window, climbing out when my door burst open and he stood there, his face red and eyes blazing with rage.

There had been a fire in his eyes that I had never seen before- it made me freeze and stay where I was while he knocked me onto the ground, glaring down at me.

"I thought you had learned your place!" He had screamed, kicking me and slicing my skin with the glass from the window.

It was then that I wished I could just close my eyes and let him kill me.

I wish he had killed me instead of letting me live like he did.

Death would have been the perfect way to get away from this torture, this torture called reality.

After I was covered in bloody marks and bruises he had lifted me up gently, oh so, so gently.

He had placed me on my bed, stroking a strand of hair back from my face and smirking, whispering in my ear,

"You will never escape me, my darling."

I had tried to escape so many times after that, just to prove to him that I could, I could escape this hell.

But of course, I couldn't.

As I said before, he was always too strong.

A lot of the marks on my battered skin will never go away- the amount of times he hit me, kicked me, sliced my had all become permanent, like a permanent memory glued into my mind.


I don't try to escape any more, I know my place- I am inferior, he is superior.

That's just the way it is.

A few months after he was convinced that I wouldn't try to run away again he had given me a diary, this diary, to write in.

That was the last moment that he had been kind to me.

I can't take it, I can't.

My arm is aching as I write this, but I can't stop, not now.

This calms me, writing in this old book.

But it still doesn't ease the pain, the everlasting pain...


I heard the crack before I felt it.

My diary fell to the ground with a thump, and I could feel the twisted position my body was in.

"You stupid, worthless bitch!" He screamed, and I could smell the alcohol in his breath.



Two words I used to describe myself every day that I looked into the cracked old mirror in my bedroom.

He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't fall.

If he let go, I would hit the ground in less than a second.

Just like clockwork he let go of my body, letting me hit the ground as no sound escaped my lips.

"You're useless. You don't scream anymore, why don't you scream? Your pain is what keeps me living, why won't you feel any pain for me?!!" He roared, kicking me in the stomach over and over again.

I continued to stay silent.

If he wanted me to scream, I wouldn't make a sound.

He would kill me, and I could escape.

I could escape reality, I could go to a place where the clouds are fluffy and white, where people are smiling and the sun shines down on me.

If only I had been born in that world.

But no.

No, that's just a fantasy.

Just a stupid, silly, cotton candy fantasy.

© Copyright 2017 Wicked Beautiful. All rights reserved.

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