Work Text:
Annabelle didn’t understand. She was so fucking scared.
She felt so hungry, she needed food, she was going to die, everything hurt but it didn’t and she was scared.
Eyes constantly felt like they were watching her every move, and fangs split from her teeth, and her eyes were glowey and-
She couldn’t fucking breath.
Her heart didn’t beat.
She was dead.
She sits on her bed- it felt so wrong, she felt so exposed, no matter how much she hid and washed and hid.
She couldn’t remember him. She still feels the touches, the feeling of use.
She isn’t a toy, but to him, she was.
Claw marks drag down her face, blood, so dark, too dark, and so fucking thick, pooling up in little spheres over top.
It didn’t hurt like it should.
She should hurt more. This isn’t fucking normal.
She’s so scared.
Vomit pools in her throat, and she hacks it out without a second thought. It’s all blood.
Blood. Blood. Blood.
Blood is covering her.
She doesn’t know what to do.
She needs help.
Someone can fix this, right?
Someone has to be able to fix this!
She’s-
Oh, oh she’s so fucking hungry.
The smell of blood overdrives her thoughts, corrupting her ability to think properly in place of Eat, Eat, Eat.
She’s hungry.
She’s so fucking hungry.
She needs food.
She’s going to die.
She’s already dead.
Should she tell her girlfriend?
What will she say to Mark?
What will she tell her parents?
“Oh, yeah, I died, sorry!”
No.
No, no, no.
She needs out.
She’s so hungry.
She needs food.
Food.
She needs blood.
She hates this.
Why is she like this?
Who did this to her?
Why her?
How- she can’t even think. She needs food, but she can’t eat and everything is bad and nothing satisfies that hunger.
She wants it to go away.
Why won’t it go away?
Please.
Please go away.
She’s so hungry.
She needs food.
She gets up.
She follows the scent.
It’s so sweet, so perfect.
She NEEDS it.
Now.
And so,
She feeds.