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Test Subject
Original Poster
#1 Old 29th May 2012 at 12:41 AM
Default The Romilly Files
Okay, just a warning here. This story is VERY VERY VERY gory... It's actually more of a series, but the intro is... macabre. o_O

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Her name was Romilly Sarah Johnson. She was short, skinny and had a wild, careless mop of fire curls on her head. She had little freckles on her nose and delicate lavender bags under tired eyes. She had small, soft hands that liked to pick individual fibers from blankets or clothing. She liked to salt the wound.

She liked to wake up early in the morning and pick at her skin. At the dried mess on the rim of her thumbnail, peeling it back 'til it bleed. She sucked on the blood to stunt it, then maimed the next finger, until just strips of white, dry flesh hung off her long, jagged nails. She liked to salt the wound.

She liked to dance, tiny pointed toes hitting the ground and propelling her gymnast body up into the sky, connected by that one silky foot. She liked to twirl about, watching her skirt billow from beneath her. She liked getting straight A's in school and she liked her boyfriend. She liked to salt the wound.

She liked to lay in bed and remember her Life Before. She liked to remember how she danced across the stage, sparkly swan dress puffing from around her underweight thighs. The pointe slippers, their white lace up to her knee in an interesting twirl. She liked catching the red roses and she enjoyed smelling them and bending their young stems into bracelets, a blast of red. She liked to salt the wound.

She liked waking up in the morning in her room. She liked the walls of her room-- white, cushioned and secure. She liked her bed-- the thin mattress barely protecting her white bones from the gray, chipping metal of her supports. She liked waking up with her arms hugging herself, in their tight white cocoon.

One morning, since Romilly had been such a good girl, they let her out of her Jacket. They let her go and eat her apples and thick, chunky soup with the other People. She was Normal when she ate. She was Normal when her arms left her, and she was Normal when she ravenously tortured the apple in her teeth. She crunched into the bruised red skin.

She was taken to her room, where someone placed a mirror. Since, yes, Romilly had been such a good little girl on her meds, they let her examine her face. They left her, left the good little girl sitting on her bed, holding the white mirror to her face. They let her grimace and smile and play safe with her own unruly expression while they Hovered Over Her for awhile.

But when the door to the GoodLittleGirl's cell closed, she shrieked. The mirror went flying from a vein-y hand, from the cold, white hand with long nails. She ran with such grace to her bed and found the piece of metal she had Been In Love With. She began to claw into her cheeks, ripping the pinkish flesh off into a hang. Crimson poured down her neck and Crimson poured to her feet. She tore the cheek off, leaving it to simmer in the salty juice.

Romilly spun around with her Dancers' Heart as she pried another piece of her face off. The other cheek. It mated with the her skin, rubbing to each other in the Cold. She sliced open her forehead, and the Good Girl stuck her long nails back into it and peeled like an onion, peelpeelpeel, peel 'til it's over my eyes. Peel until the pinkish skin around your useless eyes was off, and the red, juicy muscles were exposed.

Tear, tear, tear through those muscles like a piece of meat. Gouge, gouge, gouge your eyes until you see blood and you can't breathe. Scream, scream, scream until White comes in and shoots you in the arm, and Twitch, Twitch, Twitch until you wake up, hugging yourself.

Her name was Romilly Sarah Jones. She was short, skinny and had a wild, careless mop of fire curls on her head. She had little freckles on her nose and delicate lavender bags under tired eyes. She had small, soft hands that liked to pick individual fibers from blankets or clothing.

She liked ice cream, especially black cherry sherbet in a waffle cone. She liked kissing her boyfriend, and she liked shopping with her best friends. She liked modelling the pieces and she liked dancing.

She liked to salt the wound.
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Banned
#2 Old 29th May 2012 at 10:30 PM
Woah... very strange but interesting. I like it.
Field Researcher
#3 Old 2nd Jun 2012 at 9:48 AM
You have such a great way of describing things, your text is so full and rich and original. Keep at it :-)
 
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