Painful Prices

        ‘How long has it been now?’

Patience slid out of her feeble grasp long ago; whether she had a care for it or not as she fumbled with the paintbrush in her delicate hands. Each bristle fought their way past the thick veil of mauve chains, selfishly burdening the floor of which she painted to be rid of their binder.

Beyond these cocooned walls, her strength is desired by the greed resting in the soldiers of those battling in this never-ending war.

        ‘How long has it been now? A week? A month? Not in your dreams, dear child’



Heavy blankets are made out of the thick strings that entwine themselves as soon as they leave the wombs of shattered veins; draping over her left arm as pain begs her to save herself.

Yet even as the bloodstained pages flitter around the room, she continues.



        ‘What do you want to achieve from this? You’ve wasted enough time’

“Shut up, just shut up.”

Nimble fingers tremble against the agony that stabs her veins, allowing her illusion of precise accuracy to vanish as her sloppy painting comes into focus. Nonetheless, she continues the last strokes, entwining the drying paint together, watching as it binds her body inside.

        ‘You’ll go to hell for this. You’ve spent so much time…for this?’

Her frail body is breaking; her life force dripping out as her missing limb begins the process of decomposition. Shaky gasps are all she can manage in the battle against death’s mangled claws (Though she has already accepted that even though she might win this battle. She’ll never win the war.)



Angels failed her long ago; taking advantage of her weakened heart until the shell was the only survivor, which leaves her blood coated lips with no prayers to whisper into the silence.

She can still beg though.



Her blanket slides down her shoulder, grasping onto the shadows that coil around her ever with ever so gentle delicacy. They whisper in her ear, twirl in her heart and tangle themselves in her mind

        "What would you have us do? What would you have us do?"

“Help…”

        ‘Of course, of course, whatever you say, kislany.’

She's already paid the price.