"Who the hell are you? And what do you want?" I asked, gritting my teeth. The pain was getting worse, and the only thing that this guy did is to stare at me creepily. I went down to take the knife, and he snatches it before I could reach it.
"Seriously, what the hell do you want?" I was fuming.
"I am keeping this with me," with a deep voice, he said. He put the knife in his pocket. "And, think of me as the angel your dad sent to you to save you from your sick mind." He said before he started walking. I was perplexed. What just happened? How the hell he knows my dad? Feeble mind? What a great angel?

Sarah has an unordinary life. Due to previous events in her past, she now experiences some side effects that bigger even to her age. She gets nightmares that never know why she has them, and she kept getting pain in her chest and heart whenever it rains. She never knew an answer about the cause of any of this.
The life she's leading is away from anyone else. 
She doesn't talk to anyway and pushes who tries to get close to her. Until one day, when five guys came with their own stories to bother the painful silence, she was living.
Want to know more? Keep turning the pages.
Warning: I don't encourage self-harm, violence, or aggression; It's a part of the story.
If any of this triggers you or if you don't like it. I don't advise you to read it.

Drops of Pain

It's not fair that your mind plays your emotions to memories. Blacking out had always brought feelings that I never experienced, memories I never thought I had. In conclusion, what the little me was longing for were only feelings turned to memories in my messed up brain to guard her fragile self against the truth. 


From the sun's rays, I assume it's the afternoon. I woke up with a tremendous headache, complicated emotions rushing through my body—feelings of a little girl that didn't understand what she was feeling. I feel them, yet I think I am separated from her. That she's me and she's not. What would have happened if I lived with the memories since day one? Will I tell my parents? Will I recognize my ignorance and hate life to the point of ending it? 


In the Victorian room