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There’s been a massacre. I, the sole survivor at the center of this blood bath thrust upon me at the dead of night. My clothes, soiled while my dignity lay discarded. The gates flooded at the time I was at my lowest, most vulnerable. Now I sit upon my throne in shame as I have been shackled here against my will. With no protection to shield me I sit here, aghast, at what has transpired amid my solemn slumber.
Head held low, I want to scream towards the heavens; How could they betray me in such a way that leaves me to lay waste without any means of self preservation?
My knuckles, white, as they grip at my sides; What am I supposed to do now but sit in shame and end what I subconsciously started the only way I can conquer?
My hands tremble towards my neck; the taking of my own life will be swift. It is my last means of self preservation after the massacre of the night before
as my box of pads lay empty.