bound by darkness, written in blood.

she stood in the bright hot spotlight. felt the heat prickle every inch of her skin. the roar of silence pounded on her eardrums. instinctively her hands reach up to cover her ears. but she feels the pull, the restraint. looking at her wrists, shocked to find shackles. raising her hand against the blinding light, squinting, she notices only faint shadows in the background. sweat glistening off her skin.

panic now sets in. where is she? what is she doing? what is going on? she looks around, trying her best to see past the harsh white light. looking at herself, she finds herself bare naked and vulnerable. realization now hits her with a thousand fold. the roaring of the crowd, the taunting of their voices. she felt her world spinning in circles, too much too overwhelming, she couldnt withstand.

she’s scared. she’s ashamed. she tries to hide. tries to cover. her legs propel forward to run. but trips, stumbles and falls. laughter rings through the air. looking back, she finds the same shackles at her ankles. she screams in fear; but no voice can be heard. her voice so soft, inaudible above the buzzing of the noise around her. crying ever so silently, her face drenched in tears.

she struggles, picks at the shackles. tugs pulls hits, but nothing worked.

now like a puppet, someone pulls the strings. her movement she lost control. her limbs hurt against the pull, in every direction. here there, seemingly on the brink of tearing her apart. she tries to resist but to no avail. she falls yet again. the tug comes harder this time, forcing her back up upon her feet.

her limbs now bleed, chaffed from all the wear. she gives up. her body crumbles in defeat. limp like a rag doll. pain searing her every sense, jolting every inch of her body. she gives in, fight against it no more. whatever she feels, she does. if the pull is in that direction, then in that direction she goes. soon, the movements are fluid, she and it are one.

entertaining the shadows, submitting to their every want and need. if the cheers grew louder, the tugs were lighter. or else, ever more painfully and forcefully will she be forced. she soon looked forward to doing a good job, adding her own touches here and there. satisfied with herself for a job well done. pleasing the crowd was her only aim.

and so that is the story of her. no longer is she her own being. the shackles soon were taken off after. but limp her body crumbled. unable to function, not without them ugly shackles. the scars proof of what was, but phantom sensation imprinted forever.

she is gone forever.