63. Brynn
P ain.
That’s all I feel.
Nothing but pain.
I can’t move. I just lay there, where I was tossed in like trash.
It’s freezing cold. It’s pitch black too.
I know my father left right after Xavier had my tongue cut out. I know they argued, the guards wouldn’t shut up about it.
And then Xavier had me thrown down here, had me locked away. Apparently, he got sick of my screaming, even after he removed my tongue.
I make that same gurgling noise, the one that pisses him off. Only, thankfully no one now can hear me in this cold darkness.
My nose wrinkles as I smell the stench of my own shit. I’m naked, lying in it. But with my legs as useless as they are, I don’t have the strength to even crawl away from it.
Ingrid doesn’t come down here.
No one comes down here.
I know Xavier is punishing me, that this is his method of trying to fix me.
But I’m sick of being broken.
Why am I never good enough? Why must I always have to change, have to bend, have to be moulded to fit them?