The air is purple and black, It would be beautiful...if it wasn't black ink consuming the area.

Your tired

The air is poisonous, your legs are weak, all you can do is crawl away, hoping at least to get somewhere safe. But the contraction of sweet lavender perfume mixed with the horrible stench of cyanide is too much to bear.

Your eyes start to get blurry, your head is pounding, like a man with a pickaxe. cutting your skull open. Your arms feel like jelly, it's hard to breathe.

No matter...it's always hard to breathe during these events, I suppose you should be used to it..no?

A strong grip yanks your hair, some of your precious hair must've ripped out of your scalp.

A dark chuckle escapes from Vil's black obsidian lips, he looks delighted to see you being tortured.

"Oh...potato...you thought you could escape me? The Fairest of Them All? He says with a condescending voice.

It sickness you

Without your non - verbal response, he grinds his heel in your back, a scream threatens to escape from your lips, but with blood, sweat and tears. You hold back. It's what you have been doing for the past months. Holding back everything.