Addison Reeves. She was dead. Her pale hands would never touch. Her silver breath would never warm. She would not ever feel the atoms, the very substance of life.

Ha. How ironic. She'd lived, she'd loved, but not to the fullest.

Addison certainly had had the most troubling life. A young assassin who had been forced to kill her sweetheart Alexander, and her mother Penelope. A stunned group of coastguards found the dead body of a twenty one year old brunette floating in the turquoise waters of the sea. She'd loved the sea with all her heart, and had died there, because her broken arm, leg, neck and splintered skull clearly indicated she had hurled herself off the steepest cliff. A rusty black penknife lay embedded in her ribs. Upon investigation, the blood of a grown male and the blood of an elderly female had been found on it. She was 5'4 inches tall, only 39 kilograms, which indicated that she starved herself, and had blood type O. All this information, yet her identity was never discovered. Until her diary was found.

Her entries were full of facts about life, acceptance, happiness, and love. Nobody believed that this could be the same girl, but it was. It was.

The girl's entries grew more and more frantic.

Entry number 102: Today was so beautifully dreamy! Alex took me on a picnic, and it was so romantic! We even went stargazing after~

Entry number 167: I'm becoming more scared. SHE is still here. Mother says she doesn't exist, but she does. I know-

Entry number 182: It's so cold, and I'm sick. It's all HER doing. But-

Entry number 209: It's dark in my head. My Utopia is crumbling, SHE is invading it. SHE demands it. Alexander is so sweet and supportive, but SHE is threatening to hurt him unless I do as she says. How-

Entry number 278: Help. I can't stop. Help me, I request you. Please Jesus, help me defeat this accursed Satanist.

Entry number 289: Blood everywhere. Hands, clothes, knife, soul. I cannot wash the reek and horror from my soiled mind, God.

Entry number 300: My love is like a rose, the thorns will prick you now. SHE has told me that. SHE and her daughter, Ramona. SHE says that Satan should be my one true belief, but I am not keeling under her rule.

Entry number 330: Time is running out. *unintelligible scribbles* We must grab the clock of pain and rewind *more scribbles*

SHE is the Mortifer (bringer of death in Latin)

Entry number 367: Matame, matame......! (kill me, kill me)

Entry number 467: Insanity plugging up my senses, it's weighing me down.....

Entry number 474: What's happening to me? Am I dying? Is this what death feels like? Cruel, cruel.....

Entry number 478: Numb toes, frozen heart. Alex is drifting away from me....

Entry number 499: I'm so lonely, I sound like a teenage girl right now. Ha. Those were the days........

Entry number 512: I remember faint memories. Is that good? Is my old self returning?

Entry number 534: My freedom is fluttering like a bird just out of my reach. How frustrating......

Entry number 557: "The mind is like an open book, and your lover doesn't need reading glasses to see you."

Entry number 565: The inevitable day draws closer.....hurt and pain shall sweep me away soon, in a waterfall........

Sounds:

Crunch. Leaves.

Swoop. Bird wings.

Tap tap. Fingers dancing on the keyboard.

Ting. A message on her phone.

Crack. Egg bursting.

Slurp. Drink of tea.

Sst. Turning the page of a well-loved book.

Chitter. Pet rat's squeak.

Floomp. Chocolate biscuit melting in her mouth.

Rustle. Newspaper.

Tastes

Chocolate's sweetness, biting off a corner, sinking her teeth into the unhealthy treat.

Smooth strawberry cake, rainbow sprinkles. Moist patisserie delight, brightening her day.

Bitter medicine, sinking down her throat. Sharp distaste painting her serious features.

Sweet ink, staining her lips cobalt. End of a pen breaking between her absent-minded teeth.

Warmth of wool, making her tongue itch. Soggy sweater sleeve crushed in her mouth.

Fleshy finger, clutched in her jaws. Comfort drizzling on her tormented mind.

Pillow-like lips, kiss fueled by love. Sending excited thoughts staggering through her dizzy brain.

Cloud of perfume making her taste buds tingle. Heavy scent settling like a tarpaulin.

Peanut butter, thick and crunchy. Loved by her and hated by her health instructors.

Giggles bubbling from her crimson mouth, shaking away her loneliness. Dark eyes sparkling with cherished mirth.

Sight

Brown wood, scarred bark. Amber tree sap.

Gilded dog fur, clinging to her fingers. Loving wet licks from a rosy appendage.

An old chick flick, starring some old-timey actress. Stifled snorts from the hilariously bad dialogues.

Eyes of her lover, smoky, cloudy. Sinking into their gentleness like soothing hands caressing her brows.

Buzzing bees, homely with friendliness. Fuzzy underbellies glittering in the watery sunlight.

Richly flushed rose petals, damp watery stuff spilling into her palms. Sickly sweet fragrance enveloping her.

Mother's old apron, starchy and chalky with flour. Rough cloth rubbing against her bitten nails.

Scarlet rust, tangy smell cloying with age. Surrounding her penknife with inexplicable familiarity.

Callouses on her bloody fingers. Blade scarlet. Cheeks sodden.

Grey eyes popping out of the skull like salmon eyes, Addison's mouth sour with horror and vomit.

Thoughts

Insanity. Dark. Cold. Help.

Falling. Let me go. No. No.

Hospital. Flickering lights. Escape. Run.

Not crazy. Not crazy. No.

Red. Red. Red. Red. Wet. Pretty.

Warm. Damp. Drippy?

Am I me? Who am I?

Death. Cliff. Freedom.

Escape? No?

Paint? Red. No! More color!

Mother? Where? Run!

Dead? No! Mommy's in my head!

Lie. Lie. Feet cold. Blanket?

Food? Food? Water?

Run. Run. Run. Run. Escape asylum.

Dull. Draw. Guards. Sweaty. Need allies.

Live. Live. Live. Vengeance.

Please. Please. Cliff. So close.

Jump. Fly. Go. Fly. Fly.

Water. Lungs burning. Hot. Cold. Swim. Can't.

Sorry, Mother. Sorry, Lizzie. Don't leave me. I love you.

Goodbye.

Thump. Last heartbeat.

Agonizing salt water. Last sight.

Screaming gulls and police sirens wheeling together in the blackness. Last sound.

Love. Last thought.

THE END