I know it's been a while since I've written anything here. I'm hoping I will have more stories that are appropriate for posting up here. I'll work on that for you <3
Blood dripped down her face from a long cut hidden by her hair. The warm red liquid dripped in her eyes, making it hard to see. Cuts and holes covered her body as she stumbled, naked, down the road. Semen and blood leaked from the holes covering her legs and abdomen. Her black hair was uneven; shaved in some parts, long in others. As she walked, she cried tears that just wouldn't come.
People looked at her with awe. "How is she still alive?" "Where do you think she's from?" "Should we get help?" They were the common questions. But no one walked up to her. No one called for help. All they could do was watch the girl walk with unsure steps. Children pointed and stared. Parents led them away. Women shook their heads in sorrow and disgust. Men wondered what she was like before.
But still, no one went to her aid. No one called for help. The bustling crowds parted for her, no one daring to touch her. Those who bothered to stop only did so for a moment before melding back into the crowd.
This dying girl's story was being lost and no one cared. Bloody footprints followed her as she weaved through the crowd. Despite her failing steps, she never fell. She just walked. But slowly, she started to stumble more, feet tripping over nothing.
It didn't take much longer before she just fell. And people still didn't go to her aid. Still, no one called for help. The pool of blood forming around her wasn't very big. Face down in the slowly forming pool, her chest heaved with the effort of breathing. No other movement came from her.
Her story bled from her body, drip by drip. What she was, what she could have been, leaked from her open wounds. Because no one stopped. No one called. No one cared.