You may look at someone and call them a "friend," but in the end you never truly know them.

You may call someone your "family," but in the end they never truly are.

She felt constricted; claustrophobic.

She felt dead; alone.

No one truly understood her.

She wanted to die but was scared to leave.

'Why was I born?' she asked herself.

My pain is a comfort, my joy a suffering.

She smiles for their sake, yet she never truly smiles.

'Why won't I die?' she asks herself.

The pain she enjoys.

You can see it in her eyes.

Turn out the light and leave it behind.

Turn on the darkness and embrace it.

You never know, you might just find an escape.

The crimson river is forgiveness.

Forgiveness for living.

Your soul has tainted the world.

Why don't you release yourself.

No more captivity.

Only freedom.

You never know, you might just find an escape.

Our stories are different.

But this is my story.

Yet is it really my story? or is it just another lie.

Don't touch me.

leave me alone.

Why? Why was I born?

Goodbye... Goodnight.

I'll see you in Hell.