Can You Feel It?

Can you feel it? I sure can. I don't like feeling it, but when it wants to feel me, I usually let it and mind my own business. This time was different, in that it shoved itself into random places of my body and simply waited for me to move. It usually didn't care what it was touching, but it felt specific, this time. I moaned a soft moan and it continued to feel me. I started to feel uncomfortable, but it didn't care, and I was busy not paying attention.

Can you feel it, now? The knife plunged deeply into my abdomen, and it was ready to shove itself into other places. As usual, I didn't care, I was busy singing a song at this time, I believe. It shattered my left arm, and then my right leg. I cried, and it sliced my right palm. I screamed and moaned but it plunged once again into my abdomen. The warmth it created to me was nothing special, although the liquid started to turn messy.

Now tell me. Can you feel it? I bit and tore at its skin, but it continued on, as if determined to destroy me. It thrust itself into my stomach, again, but at this time I was blinded, so I couldn't be sure what exactly it was. The pain? It was relatively the same. I can't comment on it, right now, because at this moment, I'm numb. I don't know exactly how to feel.

It thrust on and on until I didn't think I could take it anymore, the discomfort became unbearable, and it kept going until I could feel warm liquid everywhere. I could feel more pain in my right arm, but I didn't think too much of it. Under my blindfold I could hear him rubbing something, but I was too scared to look. Fear comes naturally to me, nowadays. I could feel my hair stick to the floor. I didn't like that feeling, and neither would you, if you could only feel it.

He carried me into a ceramic bowl and turned on cold water, issuing a command I didn't feel like comprehending. I rubbed the cold water onto myself and scrubbed in the areas that felt painful. It stung a lot and it hurt even more than without, but I did it anyway. I gagged and choked on the water, but I didn't let that get to me. In the background, I heard scrubbing, and I looked around. It was a clean bathroom, no more irregular than usual. I scrubbed my fingernail a bit. The man came back and threw me out of the tub.

"Get your clothes on, freak! Stay in your filthy room."

I nodded and half-consciously dressed myself. He noticed my lackluster and whipped me. My flesh poured open again, but I heeded it no mind, as I was busy dressing myself faster, to avoid another whip. When I finished, he left, and I hurried to check out myself. The gashes hurt, yes, but I didn't think it important to seal them, when they'd just re-open after tomorrow's session.

I hate this life. I wish I could stop, but I can't leave. Is this what he.ll feels like? Can you feel it?
















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This was originally going to be like my other stories. However, I got sidetracked, and in my haste, I gave it actual meaning. Kudos to the people that can realize what it's about, even though it's not exactly a kid-friendly message.
I didn't want to continue this because I got sad, confused, and sidetracked really hard.

For my other stories, here's links.
http://www.shaychu.com/t1520-a-spoon-and-the-peaceful-fear
http://www.shaychu.com/t1535-twist-and-shout
http://www.shaychu.com/t1541-troubadour

well you're correct on the not kid friendly thing but it's not like a normal kid could understand it. I can't figure out if it's a good or bad thing that I'm not normal >.> but it was good. You seriously need to like... write poetry. Or if you do publish a book, I'd buy it.