Kill me now.

My teeth like jagged rocks bit at my lower lip, drawing a bitter of juice. I stood to the side of the door which led into a bright clean room. A room that held one large man, his belly protruded out like a garbage can, his whiskers on his chin lightly dusted with white icing. He wore an extra large dress shirt that was un-tuck from his waist.

I heard a low grunt from his deep scratchy throat and stood. I reached out my hand now ghostly white and trembling. With one last breath I twisted the door knob my veins seizing to the surface of my skin.

"A-a-annabel," he said with a stutter, each syllable making me cringe.

"Hello sir," I licked my cracked upper lip taking a seat in the small orange plastic chair opposite form Sir. Its hinges creaked and protested at my limited weight.

He grinned showing his set of crooked yellow and brown teeth.

"H-how are y-you?" he asked closing his fists on the top of his rustic desk, three knuckles popping. I took a large gulp steadying myself

"Fine sir," My voice was small a weak.

"T-that's good, your hair…you cut it since we last met I always p-preferred long hair." His voice leaked with venom as I sat across from my own personal devil.

It was true, I had cut my hair, and my once long cruelly red hair was now cut above my ears in uneven lengths. Looking as if a five year old had cut it with their own pair of safety scissors.

"Well, w-why don't we get to i-i-it." His grin faded as he slowly pushed away from his desk, standing up with great effort and walking painfully sluggish over to my side.

I felt his breath slowly blow the side of my ear, smelling like a stale tuna sandwich. My lip twitched as he bent over, to the right, his lips slowly grazing the tip of my ear.

"The words that will pull you into such insanity that only a death himself would speak them." He said with clear words, his stutter completely fading. "You come here to hear them, today is the day that you will loose. Your. Mind."

"Why do you know them?" I said with an uneasy tone, I knew that the words were wrong once they left my mouth.

"That is neither here nor there," He said with a snap of his jaw. "Are you ready?" he asked slowly

"No," I said truthfully


Then without hesitation, without even a blink of his mole infected eyelid, he said the words. I knew what it would be, there was always apart of my mind which knew. But when the words were spilled out of his chops something changed. A click to my animalistic mind, there was no reason to hold back. But before I was able to jump from seat and hurl out o f his twentieth story window to my sure death, I blacked out.

I woke to a loud engine sound, around me boxes and crates wrapped in netting stood. A fait murmur began to reach my sense and soon, as my vision repaired I found I was in a small grey cylinder, and somewhere close two voices spoke. I crawled forward my nails digging into the ground. My mind clouded with the memory, the memory I would never escape.

"How much longer," A mans voice said.

"Five hours," A second woman's voice said

"Kill me now." I edged forward peeking from behind a large crate. My eyes winded as I saw threw a large window into open sky. I was on an airplane. It must be a small storage plane; by the way it was set up.

My throat was dry and my tongue was swollen from an injury I could not remember. Scratches ran down my arms, red marks accompanying them. I inched my way forward, climbing onto the crate. I made sure to not let the crate give any warning to the pilots, everything had to be perfect.

My mind raced on into madness as I could not escape my own hell. Kill me now.

Without hesitation I sprang forward, my arms out wrapping around the mans stomach, tightening my arms as strongly as I could. Yelling and screaming bounced off the sides of the plane, but I noticed nothing other then the decline of the plane. My stomach did not jump as it had when I was a little girl falling. It was reassured, ready.

I heard on last shrill scream before the impact hit me. I could remember much after that, only the surge of water into my airway, the warmth that it provided. I felt as dirt grazed my cheek as water was replaced my air, and soon movement ceased.

I slowly opened my blood shot eyes to look around at my surroundings. I was defiantly not on the plane anymore. It was what seemed to be a small island. I tried to pick myself up with great effort, my right arm buckled and did not give any support, surely broken. The side of my face was smeared with my own dirty blood. I took a steady breath, was I not privileged enough for death?

My feet dragged across the wet sand, my left foot stabbing with pain each step. The pain was nothing to my tortured mind though. It dragged on, my entire self control loosing its grips.

A small shinning object to my right caught my attention. I slowly bent over examining it with my dirty hands. It was a conch shell, back home my grandmother collected them, something of a prized possession.

I couldn't take it anymore. I would have to end it. In my right hand I held the shell as I walked into the blue water wading at the surface. I swam till I was a farther out, and with my last breathe on earth I dived down. I swam further then I have ever in my life. My ears bursting in protest, and suddenly my world turned completely silent.

I grabbed onto some coral that finally was in arms length, taking off my belt and quickly tying myself to it.

I was struggling now. Air limited in my lungs my body fighting against the unpreventable doom. And with the conch shell still in hand I brought it to my lips, mumbling the words that would surely make anyone insane.

The words in the end were not as important as the result in them. They made a person slowly decay in the mind, slowly becoming a creature. They made you be prisoner by your fears, unable to stir away form them, unable to think of anything else. Trapped by them, presented by the ones you didn't even think of before. Making the visual of your fears repeat in your mind again and again. Soon a person would not even see the earth they stood on but the fear that engulfed it.

With one last gulp of the salt water I dropped the conch shell next to me, the words inside it, for anyone that would blow into it letting the words spin. The words would be weaker, take longer to seep into minds. But none the less the words would make anyone go into an undefeatable battle.