Categories > Celebrities > Slipknot
Love Is Just A Camouflage For What Resembles Rage
0 reviewsI freeze, a new bout of fear filling my whole body like cold water is running through me
1Moving
A/N: Ok so this, for some reason, was inspired by Snuff by Slipknot. I’m going to warn you, it’s about a woman being abused by her husband so if that’s a touchy subject for you, please don’t read it because I wouldn’t want to upset anyone. Please R&R and enjoy.
I lie shivering on the floor in a crumpled heap of nothing. I feel warm blood trickle down my pale skin from my bruised nose. I take deep breaths, trying desperately to ignore the aching pain in my stomach. I start to struggle up, slapping my hands on the floor and pushing myself up into a sitting position, bringing my legs forwards to help me balance. I take another deep breath in preparation for the pain that is about to shoot through me like a bullet through glass. I push myself further up placing my feet heavily onto the floor and removing my hands. I slowly straighten up and breathe out, tensing little from the pain. I start to look around the room, trashed from the events of earlier today; a half-full suitcase surrounded by wrinkled clothes that fell out after being thrown across the room, shattered glass near the door from a vase being knocked over and dried drops of deep red blood contrasting with the light cream carpet from the many hits I had taken.
I walk towards the door to get something to clean this mess up when I catch sight of my reflection in the dusty mirror. I stop in front of it, shocked at what I am seeing. I slowly edge towards it, loathing everything I see, as it gets clearer. All the black and blue bruises running up my thin arms and blood stained cuts dragged across my skin in random places. I start to feel disgusted at what I’m seeing. No wonder others think I’m weird. I rarely go out anymore, fearful of upsetting my husband more if I am caught talking to anyone and fearful of what people would say about me. I keep edging slowly closer to the mirror, taking tiny steps before I finally reach it. Anger rushes up inside of me, anger at myself for being so pathetic, so disgusting. He deserves more than me. Without thinking, I reach forward and grip my hands around the sides of the mirror, rip it away from the wall and slam it down onto the floor with a huge force, which drains the anger from my body. I watch as shards of glass bounce over the carpet and land with a clattering sound. The anger that was drained from me is soon replaced by the familiar feeling of numbness. I don’t know what I feel until I realise what I just did and start to panic about how my husband will react. I just broke the mirror and now he will break me.
I spot the abandoned suitcase across the room and run to it, landing on my knees next to it. I start to grab all the clothes I can in my arms and push them forcefully into the case, trying desperately to make everything fit as fast as I can. This is my opportunity to escape and I have to take it. I am nearly finished when I hear the lock of the front door click and I freeze, a new bout of fear filling my whole body like cold water is running through me. I hear heavy footsteps on the wooden floor of the hallway getting closer and louder. He calls out my name, slurring the final letters under his drunken breath as he takes his final steps to the doorway and stops.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He growls loudly, walking towards me before reaching me and grabbing a handful of my hair, pulling me up so I am standing. He brings his filthy face right to mine before whispering, “You’re not going anywhere”. He adds a dirty laugh and throws me back down, making me whimper. He laughs again.
“You’re pathetic,” He continues, spitting on me “No wonder you got nowhere in life”. He walks out the room into the kitchen and I hear him take out a glass and place it heavily on the counter, pouring another drink. The fear drains from me, numbness replacing it once more. My mind takes over my body and I can no longer control myself. I am not angry, I am not sad I feel nothing. I slowly stand up and walk out of the room, avoiding the various shards of glass scattered across the carpet and make my way to the kitchen.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks me again. I ignore him and just keep walking, making my way over to the set of drawers, carefully opening the top one and just looking blankly at the contents.
“I said what are you doing? Don’t ignore me woman!” His voice rising with every word but I just don’t listen. I’m can’t hear anything but a voice in my head that is taking over
End him.
I pick a large, sharp knife out of the drawer and hold it tightly. I turn to him and start to edge towards him. He backs into the wall and for the first time, I see slight fear in his eyes, maybe even regret for treating me so badly for years. This does not change me though; I don’t feel mercy, all I know is I have to end my misery, starting with him.
“Wh-what are you doing?” He stammers but I just keep advancing on him.
“What-AHH” I press the knife as far as it will go into his stomach, warm blood starting to drip down the handle and onto my hand. He holds his stomach and writhes in pain. I pull the knife out quickly and he groans in pain again. His breathing gets harder as he slides down the white wall, leaving a trail of red and he falls to the floor and chokes his last breaths. I turn and walk away, still no feeling running through me. I walk through the hallway, dropping the knife and it clatters on the floor, splattering fresh blood around it. I carry on walking slowly back into the living and fall to my knees. I stare blankly in front of me before falling to the floor and laying there as my eyes flutter closed, my sight becomes blurry and my breathing slows as I slowly fall back into darkness.
I lie shivering on the floor in a crumpled heap of nothing. I feel warm blood trickle down my pale skin from my bruised nose. I take deep breaths, trying desperately to ignore the aching pain in my stomach. I start to struggle up, slapping my hands on the floor and pushing myself up into a sitting position, bringing my legs forwards to help me balance. I take another deep breath in preparation for the pain that is about to shoot through me like a bullet through glass. I push myself further up placing my feet heavily onto the floor and removing my hands. I slowly straighten up and breathe out, tensing little from the pain. I start to look around the room, trashed from the events of earlier today; a half-full suitcase surrounded by wrinkled clothes that fell out after being thrown across the room, shattered glass near the door from a vase being knocked over and dried drops of deep red blood contrasting with the light cream carpet from the many hits I had taken.
I walk towards the door to get something to clean this mess up when I catch sight of my reflection in the dusty mirror. I stop in front of it, shocked at what I am seeing. I slowly edge towards it, loathing everything I see, as it gets clearer. All the black and blue bruises running up my thin arms and blood stained cuts dragged across my skin in random places. I start to feel disgusted at what I’m seeing. No wonder others think I’m weird. I rarely go out anymore, fearful of upsetting my husband more if I am caught talking to anyone and fearful of what people would say about me. I keep edging slowly closer to the mirror, taking tiny steps before I finally reach it. Anger rushes up inside of me, anger at myself for being so pathetic, so disgusting. He deserves more than me. Without thinking, I reach forward and grip my hands around the sides of the mirror, rip it away from the wall and slam it down onto the floor with a huge force, which drains the anger from my body. I watch as shards of glass bounce over the carpet and land with a clattering sound. The anger that was drained from me is soon replaced by the familiar feeling of numbness. I don’t know what I feel until I realise what I just did and start to panic about how my husband will react. I just broke the mirror and now he will break me.
I spot the abandoned suitcase across the room and run to it, landing on my knees next to it. I start to grab all the clothes I can in my arms and push them forcefully into the case, trying desperately to make everything fit as fast as I can. This is my opportunity to escape and I have to take it. I am nearly finished when I hear the lock of the front door click and I freeze, a new bout of fear filling my whole body like cold water is running through me. I hear heavy footsteps on the wooden floor of the hallway getting closer and louder. He calls out my name, slurring the final letters under his drunken breath as he takes his final steps to the doorway and stops.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He growls loudly, walking towards me before reaching me and grabbing a handful of my hair, pulling me up so I am standing. He brings his filthy face right to mine before whispering, “You’re not going anywhere”. He adds a dirty laugh and throws me back down, making me whimper. He laughs again.
“You’re pathetic,” He continues, spitting on me “No wonder you got nowhere in life”. He walks out the room into the kitchen and I hear him take out a glass and place it heavily on the counter, pouring another drink. The fear drains from me, numbness replacing it once more. My mind takes over my body and I can no longer control myself. I am not angry, I am not sad I feel nothing. I slowly stand up and walk out of the room, avoiding the various shards of glass scattered across the carpet and make my way to the kitchen.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks me again. I ignore him and just keep walking, making my way over to the set of drawers, carefully opening the top one and just looking blankly at the contents.
“I said what are you doing? Don’t ignore me woman!” His voice rising with every word but I just don’t listen. I’m can’t hear anything but a voice in my head that is taking over
End him.
I pick a large, sharp knife out of the drawer and hold it tightly. I turn to him and start to edge towards him. He backs into the wall and for the first time, I see slight fear in his eyes, maybe even regret for treating me so badly for years. This does not change me though; I don’t feel mercy, all I know is I have to end my misery, starting with him.
“Wh-what are you doing?” He stammers but I just keep advancing on him.
“What-AHH” I press the knife as far as it will go into his stomach, warm blood starting to drip down the handle and onto my hand. He holds his stomach and writhes in pain. I pull the knife out quickly and he groans in pain again. His breathing gets harder as he slides down the white wall, leaving a trail of red and he falls to the floor and chokes his last breaths. I turn and walk away, still no feeling running through me. I walk through the hallway, dropping the knife and it clatters on the floor, splattering fresh blood around it. I carry on walking slowly back into the living and fall to my knees. I stare blankly in front of me before falling to the floor and laying there as my eyes flutter closed, my sight becomes blurry and my breathing slows as I slowly fall back into darkness.
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