Memories. Illusions. Shadows drifting in the mind, reaching out with clawed hands towards me. Escape? Ha. That was something I gave up long ago. Every morning and every night, I wonder what life would be like if it never happened. All that would be swept away. The nightmares, the masks, the internal screams, maybe none of that would have happened if I was someone else.

I look at my hands and see all of the invisible scars, never will they fade, and never will they be seen by someone else. There are days when I wish that my hands were tainted with blood. My revenge would have been exacted for my entire life being taken away in an instant.

I may regret it later on, but that satisfaction after the deed was done, that is what would make it all worth it. Could I cry? Possibly, but where? Everything I had used to build up a wall, a disguise, a mask, would come crashing down if anyone saw.

Often tears burn at my eyes, my conscience pleading with me to set them free, but my physical will forcing them back harshly, to go back from where they came. No matter how hard I scrub at these stained memories burned into my skin, they will not disappear.

My skin may become raw and bloodied, but I cannot stop, and they will not be erased. My muscles ache, exhausted from running for so long, my eyes threatening to close. Maybe for the last time. If I force them open and keep running, I won't have to find out.

Will I be saved from this? Who will see that which no one else does? Hope? I left that when I started to stop resting, if someone will help me, they will have to have enough for the both of us, or I will not survive, and drag them down with me into a pit of darkness. Never to return.