coopzdelite
A flood of tears flows out of my eyes and I can’t see a thing. Blood covers the walls and in that moment I finally understand the true definition for the word fear. My breathing is uneven but I try to stay quiet so they don't come back. I study the wall and look at my body. It's my blood on the walls.
My hands are constantly cold so I keep them in my sleeves. I feel safer and much warmer that way. It's a small comfort. That must be one of the main reasons I adore sweaters.