Mortal & Malignant

Isn't it ironic?

I thought i was the incisive one to believe it was all going to change, everything was going to fix itself. 

To see such an intolerable look on my companion's face when I asked if he had anything to say about his undying love for the girl I once was.

After the mass murder, or the massacre as we all say, I lost my mind. 

They say I was once sane, but to say the least I never really was. 

Being the single survivor of a thing like this never made it easy to heal. 

The brutality of the situation was like a curse cast on me. 

Sometimes I have the aid of equanimity, yet that's in manageable situations like when you've lost your way, once again.

I wish I could've felt a calm breathe carrying on, but you just can't do it when people's throats are being sliced open in front of your eyes. 

Not when you've been tied down and tortured, with the harrowing feeling of death hovering over you. 

For many, it is lurid to hear my story.

For me, it was and still is an ordeal, a living nightmare. 

The vivid images in my head, portraying every last thing that hideous man did to us. 

I am eternally afraid to find love, because once my lover removes my clothing, the temptation to hover his eyes over my scarred, ill-favoured body will be too strong.

That may as well be the last day he feels that burning red desire to love me.

I would always be discarded, it's a fear that carries on. 

What am I to do now?

Kill myself?

If only I could without passing on that affliction and suffering to my bloodline. 

I feel as if I have nowhere to go, yet there's a clear pathway. I still have Adrian, he's always been a companion of mine.

Now that I've had a change in heart, I'm not sure if my internal beauty will ever be enough for his satisfaction.

Now, you may be wondering who I am, and how i got myself into this heinous, loathsome situation.

My name is Serenity Baker, and I am a sophomore at Harvard University.

I have now settled down in Cambridge, while my loved ones live in a small, quiet village on the River Great Ouse, near the border of Cambridgeshire and Bedfordshire. 

The butchery happened during my lone visit to the Presbyterian Church in Launceston. 

The remnants of the abandoned building drew me in.

A simple tour showcasing history of the church was my only concern, so

I never knew what would be waiting for me inside.