Revolting worms. Devouring her flesh. Numbing her brain.
Despicable hand. Roaming her body. Invading her private place.
She wanted to yell aloud. For someone to hear and come to save her from this unbearable suffering. But her throat was stuck as if she had swallowed a big rock.
She wanted to shout out. For the the world to know each and every dirty things they have been doing to her for ten years. But she could never.
No one would hear her wails. No one would buy her words. No one would save her.
This is her personal hell, where her soul and body have been imprisoned for years and possibly for ever. To escape, it requires the mean, the strength and before everything else, the will, which she lacks altogether.
That is probably the worst thing they have done to her. Having robbed her everything, her life, her innocence, her happiness, her freedom and most importantly, her courage to defend herself, to fight back. They have made her into a soulless doll to which they could do the most sickening deeds and still keep their reputation of a noble family. They would not be afraid of people's knowledge of how they have torn her every single day. She could not tell anyone. She would not tell anyone.
The more she feels repulsive when looking at those worms, when thinking about making her body their nest, the more she finds herself similar to them. Shamelessly clinging on the verge of life, desperately hiding the true nature from the outside world. To think about it, they are still much more fortunate than her, at least they have a host, and she, she has none.
For the last ten years, no matter how the weather is like, to the girl whose family name changed from Tosaka to Matou, every days are gloomy days. The sun had already died in her heart the day she was taken in a luxurious Mercedes, away from her house, her mother and sister, the day her world turn to a living hell. She detests the sun as much as people hate dirt and bacteria. She hates it when the sun exposes her bruises, both outside and inside, reminding her how filthy she is. She hates it when she watches people enjoying their happiness under sunlight, the happiness she can neither hope nor attain. She hates it most when the sun brings a bright day, too bright that she has to cower.
She is still so young. She still has many years ahead to suffer the cruelty of this world.
Harboring deep hatred for every things around, including herself, yet having to face them every days and nights, that is the melancholy state of the girl named Matou Sakura.