egg

Something I thought was an escape. A way out.
Someone I thought was a friend. A person who loved me.

That person - now looking at my petrified body, yet he's still wearing his face with a violent smile plastered across his mouth. He chose me, made me feel special, but now I don't know what I was chosen for.

The burning scalds of the lava-hot oil leave blistered and peeling skin grasping for a saviour; every atom yelling out for help as loud as possible - yet only a sizzle is heard to the cruel, cruel man.

My mouth is closing in - breathing is hard. I'm being suffocated by my own self, against my will. Every strip of it cries clear, bubbly mucus to call out for help - I'm too weak to stop the suffocation, before my vocal ability is shunned.

Vibrant yellow tears trail down my face - from where my pastel pink eye was. It exploded, like a bomb, or something bigger. I'm crying - salty, oily trails of unstoppable mayhem. I try to stop it from watering, but the trail proceeds to expand.

My back is attached to a searing hot sunbed - breaking every muscle in me. No matter how hard I try, I can't break through.

This is torture.
This is torture.

The fork comes down, and I try to grasp onto it, as my only hope.
My arm is gone - an edge of peeled skin only remains in its place.

I'll just let myself be killed, eaten... I was careless. I deserve this. Kill me.