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▬ I N x A x M A D x W O R L D, x O N L Y x T H E x M A D x A R E x S A N E ▬
xxx✘xxx Torpid It xxx✘
“ A sick thought can devour the body's flesh more than fever or consumption. ”
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It felt almost as if someone had carefully taken a knife, and started digging holes into her skin. As if maggots were attacking her, and Torpid could see her thick strands of hair slither underneath her bleached skin. It made her want to take her nails, and dig into it. She wanted to see her hair move underneath, and tear it out strand-by-strand. Torpid wanted to watch her hair squirm and slither with her own eyes. She wanted to see her hair drowned in the black gooey acid that was her blood.
Torpid suddenly twitched and jumped up from where she was laying. She wasn't exactly conscious for the past few days. As she looked around, she soon realized where she was. The meeting room. She lied back down on the floor, looking at nothing in particular. Was she tired? No. She lied down, to look at the vast emptiness that was the ceiling. It reminded her of the Leader. Dark. Mysterious. Empty.
Just like her.
Torpid opened her mouth and stuck her finger inside, feeling around the inner skin of her cheek, trying to find they key her leader gave her in order to leave this world. She didn't plan on leaving. She never left here. Ever. It was not her home, nor did she linger here because she favored it. She stayed here simply because she had no reason to anywhere else. So why was she getting out the key? Her master told her something was going to happen. Something big. He did not go into detail, but he told her to be ready. Ever since he told her this, she lied there on the floor, thinking about it. Just thinking about all of the people she would get to kill. It made her skin crawl. Out of disgust? Not particularly. For some reason, she was craving eyeballs, and tongue. Her finger found the key and pulled it out. It was soaked in an oily black liquid, with several strands of hair intertwined around it. She carefully licked it off and tucked it into her pocket, getting ready. She could feel it in her stomach. Her hair was twisting and twining itself, knowing something was coming.
Until now, Torpid was simply drifting in, and out of consciousness. But now, she was fully awake, and knew it was almost time. She could feel it in the way her her hair throbbed against her skin. This meant that until her fellow "chums" came to join her in the room, she would have to do something at least a tiny bit productive. There was only one thing that Torpid, and her hair actually liked doing. Well, liked for the most part. And it was braiding hair. The way the hair thumped and curled around her fingers was especially nice. It made her want to giggle chaotically, especially when her psychotic side was triggered.
Once again, Torpid opened up her mouth as wide as possible without manually unhinging her jaw and breaking skin. She reached her hand inside her mouth, and hastily shoved her fingers and entire hand down her throat. She gagged in slight pain, her fingertips slicing against the fragile under skin of her throat, causing it to bleed. From the outside of her throat were her fingertips, clearly seen being slowly tucked down her throat. The black, acidic, and oily substance that was her blood slowly flowed out of her mouth, and down her neck. It burned, and rotted the skin of her hand, throat, and neck. Finally, her hand reached its destination. Her stomach. Quickly, her hand opened up completely, stretching out her skin impossibly, and grabbed a handful of hair that made up her stomach. She trailed the black oily covered hair up her throat, and puked it out. Her mouth was still wide open, the gruesome substance coming out of her mouth in floods, as she held her hair up, starting to braid it. The hair was still connected to what she pulled out of her stomach, and did not leave her mouth. Torpid's mouth remained wide open, a mouthful of hair and black oil pooling from her throat, all the way down to her stomach. Quickly, to catch up the excess "blood," her hair soaked it all up, and as did her skin, leavy everything squeaky clean around her. She continued braiding her hair with both her hands. The skin on her fingers were torn up and badly rotted away. She did not stop braiding her hair, parting it in three large sections and intertwining them with great concentration, but still very aware of her surroundings.
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