Bruises. Cuts. Scabs.
'They'll be home after school.' Erin thought combing her brownish-black hair over her black eye. She slid into her small closet full of her favorite color. Black.
“So, Erin what's your favorite color?"
"Baby blue." 5-year old Erin proclaimed fierce yet innocent. Her large brown eyes happy and innocent. Her curly light brown hair bouncing as she around.
Black. Blue. Purple.
'Don't make a sound' a beautiful and haunting deep voice whispered, poison in her mind.
"Get off."
Black long sleeve shirt.
"Help!"
Black jeans.
"Please, stop."
Black boots.
Blood. Erin halted mid-stride. Blood. Everywhere. No more baby blue. No more large brown eyed, light brown bouncy curly haired girl. No more innocent. No more Erin Peace. Erin Peace. Who was she? Erin snapped her head around, staring
at the closed door with whispers behind it. Cocking an eyebrow at the door, she began putting on her clothes. Slowly.
Then picked up her packed backpack and walked out of her asylum into her torture land she learned to call home.