You start to scream, a scream that has no sound as you plunge towards the island, wishing for all dear hope that this won't hurt as much as the voice promised it would. The details of the island become clearer, as if tricking you into thinking it's real. dark purple, sickly looking thorns, sharp and splintered at the edge grow cleaer, vines of a deep mauve lined with bubbling little pustules, filled with a life draining venow with creatures of a terrifying nature swimming around wriggle with a hate filled glee, flora made of muscle and bone ripped from the dead spring upwards, like the worlds most terrifying pop up book, rise further and further into the sky as the islands darkness grows immensely.
'See that place!?' The voice, snarling, angry, hungry for your sadness, craving your pain, despwarately clawing away at your minds protective barriers for jusst one ounce of that all too well hidden nector of nightmares only known as trauma, hisses into your ears.
'That is where you belong for your cowardice! That is where I will trap you, I will tear away, piece by piece, your innocence that you hold so dear!' The voice laughs loudly, glee filled swallows of air, that with each additional fit of laughter bring forth many new layers of insidiousness to the islands appearance.
The speed at which you rocket towards the issland is increased ten fold, and as if rewarding your arrival, the island hurls at you at avalanche of boulders with cracked, jagged edges. They slam into you, full force, the pain of each one feeling like a thousand trains slamming you into a wall of force at a thousand miles an hour. The pain is horrendous, your bones break, your organs burst, your mind scrambled, and your senses dulled with each additional impact.
Yet, you don't die, you never pass away, you only heal up in time for the next boulder to smash into you, intensifying the pain. After what feels like days passing, the island greets you with all the war welcome of a murderer closing in on his victim.
Thorns impale, twist, bend, and fling your screaming form upwards into the blank whiteness, only for you to fall down faster each time, as if being pulled towards them.
Pieces of thorns break off, becoming stuck in your body, the wounds healing up, the broken shards dissolving, causing you greater amounts of agony with each new addition.
'This is the gift for cowardice! This is what you rightly deserve for abandoning that which you truly desired! If only you'd have gone back for them, if only you had the courage and will power to fight through your fear, you would not be in the agony you find yourself right now!' The voice screeches at the top of its lungs.
An unseen hand, massive, heavy, rough with thick layared scars with sharp unhealed edges slams you down through the hundreds of thousands of thorns and brambles, causing you more pain, and ultimate, crushing you into the sickly looking vines that wriggle and scrape off layers of your skin and muscle.
The pustules burst open at the slightest touch, spewing their vile contents onto you, the burning smell and the sensation of your skin and muscle melting away can't even be processed by your mind, all that you can hope for is some way, sosme thing, some one to help you, give you mercy on this nightmarish hell.
The unseen hand grinds you further into the ground, the tiny venomous creatures burrowing into the pores of your skin, dissolving, spreading their poisoned bodies through your blood stream, ultimately overloading your mind with terrifying visagess that drive you deeperinto the many levels of your mind.
You scream physically, but no words come out, you think the words, but no one responds, only the darkened laughter of a hundred thousand voices that tear away at your very being, only growing louder the deeper your broken body is pressed.
All the while, that pisoned voice constantly and ceaselessly roars into your ears, "You aren't worht their attention, you'll never amount to anything! You killed the onyl ally you have against the threats of your own personalized Inner World!" It screams, the animalistic growling tearing layers of your bravery away.
"I will take my time ripping away anything good and decent left in you, and when I'm done... In the Outer world, when you wake up, you will find no reason to live, and commit suicide!"
Your mind shuts down.
Your thoughts go blank.
You try, uselessly, to focus on the one thing that might help you out of this situation.
You finally remember, though faintly, that this is your mind, though you slowly begin to slowly lose control.
'I hear you, I'm coming, don't give up!' The Blurred You shouts, as though from a great distance.
You find little comfort in the fact as you are repeatedly assaulted by the Islands flora and fauna, constantly, without end, pieces of you torn away, only for them to heal up in short order.
'Don't give up! I'll be there soon!'