Hell girl

Not a voice to be heard, nor a soul to be seen. The room was desolate and dark with death, and the air was laced with the harsh copper scent of blood. Jagged shadows danced eerily about the pale blue walls as a light flashed in the darkness.

Crudely arranged candles flickered hauntingly, as the gruesome scene unfolded. A limp figure swung to and fro ever so slowly, from the wooden beams above. The rope was cursed with age and creaked sinisterly as it clung tightly to the damaged innocent.
The broken corpse was a canvas of dripping abstract red, each laceration so carefully carved with a serrated paintbrush. Her eyes were darkened windows into the labyrinth of madness and insanity paved into her mind. Even in death, the demons that are harboured there continue to breathe.

How could you look into her tearstained eyes, knowing it was your name that left her lips, in a strangled curse. And thus, she died alone- with only her thoughts to comfort her.                                                                                                                                           

The blood has dried; the candles ceased their waxen tears as she dangles there. Her ghost has left its battered shell, to bow down before the gates of hell.
Her demons have risen, and have consumed the frail, lonely girl she once was. She bathes in blood, and runs with the hellhounds… she has found her sanctuary, she is home at last.          

There are none that mourn her; none that even notice the quiet girl is gone forever.  She is merely a broken body under an unmarked grave. If only someone cared enough to love her, to break down the walls that guarded her heart then perhaps things would have been different…had fate not been so cruel.