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Monster

I feel the darkness settling over my body. The monster has come back. I begin shaking uncontrollably as the only remaining tears in my eyes threaten to spill over. I reach for the blade. It presses easily into my skin and I watch as it gracefully glides through my leg, leaving a trail of angry red behind. But one is not enough to satisfy the monster. Yet another beaded red line is drawn in my flesh. And another, and another, and another... The monster claws at me, trying to win me over, but I won't let it. I make more and more slices, never stopping for it is never enough. The emptiness inside me grows and I feel the blackness swallowing me whole. But I can't let him win, so I continue. It gets darker. I keep going. Soon, I give in. I can't satisfy him anymore. I let the monster take me into the black, and when I arrive into the darkness, I realize that I should have let him win a long time ago. Because I am happy now, and by letting him win, I, too, have won. I am dead.
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Written by
bethany-eaton
American
Published
Mar 14, 2012
Lines·Words
13·193
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