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twelve. | by cayla/flynn
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Thank you so much for the 500+ views on this photo! It means so much to me<3


If you don’t read anything I ever write, at least read this.


this is amazing. He has the most peaceful voice (Other than Andy Hull.)




Oh silly girl he whispered from behind. Image after image inhaled with every breath. His hands, her body, with his obsession.


Harsh fantasy painting sexual beauty in one pair of eyes, but life shattering horror in another.


In that moment her body collapsed inside of itself, so empty and afraid. His fingers traced the cage-like composition of her ribs. A scream caught itself in her swollen throat, both knowing no one would hear. Like last time, when the screams only caused an unheard echo that made her new title:


The ever living ghost.


Such a beautiful girl, so strong with blue eyes reading onto some of the most broken souls with compassion.


“No one’s gonna love you.” His voice wrapped around her throat as his hands roped the threads of innocence that clung to the empty ghost she now was.


A sob, a sound that takes your heart and squeezes all hope for humanity out. It leaves you angry for that beautiful girl with no voice or choice. A sob that ricochets off of her ribs and leads the thrill of his hunt.


His teeth grinding against each other. Her jaw clenched so tightly in hope that the pain would let her escape from reality. The life she had left inside, shouting and banging fists against her destroyed body.


“Who I am…” Fighting the hurricane behind her tired eyes, “…is not who I’ve been.”


Anger struck his features as he threw her down, purely enjoying what was coming next as the child inside of the poor, ruined girl pulled her knees to her chest and held on to something she couldn’t feel anymore.


"I’m still innocent", she told herself every time.

Every. Single. Time.




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Taken on June 17, 2011