As I sit here, thinking ever so softly about the past, the blood drips, it trickles down my arm. The veins in that arm pulse, softly, but definetly there. My scream is instantly muffled by the rag holding my jaw slightly open. Pain rushed to the raw skin around my mouth the instant I scream, only causing more pain, which makes me scream again. The cut on my arm grows deep, the blood now gushing out my cut and down my arm. The door to my confinement cell creaks open and in walks a hooded figure, my master, he heard my screaming. He hopes that I had died, he wants me dead, but he doesn't want to kill me himself. He sees me alive, more dead than alive, but still alive, and he walks back out. Leaving me to continue my pain and screaming. I look back down at the cut on my arm, now more of a gash leading to my bone. The bone is visible and I am now begging for death. I scream again and then hush, in hopes of calling back my master. He comes and I ask him for my death, I beg, I plead, I would do anything to die right now, but he denys my offer, leaving me to suffer the pain once more. I give my life up to God now. I can no longer live.

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