A carpet of green rolls off the mountain top. Souls of nature whisper to each other in the fog above. The lush green grass is dappled with tiny yellow flowers that sway in hypnotising motions.

These are the tales his eyes tell me.

His hair take me to the Scottish moors, on the cliff overlooking the sea i stand. The knee high grass mimics the waves lifting me off into the scarlet sky.

His lips lay me in a bed of roses, framed by his thorny stubble. Something so beautiful surrounded by something so harsh-i now speak of his soul.

"Come lets play" he said, as he locked the door

My eyes darted across the room for places to hide, somewhere he couldn't get to me.
But deep down i knew, there was no place i could hide, no one i could run to, that today was going to be another day of torture behind these gilded bars.
He walked towards me. That satanic smile spread across his face. I backed up, with a thud my back hit the bed frame. I was cornered.
Eyes squeezed shut, i swatted away the air. "I don't want to, i don't want to play" i whimpered. As if he flicked a switch, his face was now drenched in sarcastic concern. He slid his arm around me and ice cold fingers dug into my soul.
I winced, but all it did was bring him closer. Tears streamed down my ghostly face as i lay there, frozen.  
The only thing that moved was him, the fan, that made me detest the twisted whirlwind my life had spun into, and my eyelids that flickered as pain shot through my body.

I slid in the warm embrace of the blanket. The chill of the air conditionar stroked my protruding arms-i forgot to take it off swing again. As usual laziness got the best of me and i decided endure the torture. My toes curled as i turned my attention back towards 'my sisters keeper.' my heart throbbed with empathy and before i knew it hot tears were streaming down my cheeks but my eyes didnt waver from the pages