I still remember the feeling of my lungs being burnt as desperation filled my core. I thought that maybe the water filled tub would save me, but now, I wish I died in the flames.
The water was boiling, and the shock forced a gasp, boiling water filled my lungs and white-hot agony shot through me. I remember my cries, pitiful weeping filled the room, my lungs far too damaged to scream anymore.
And now I am damned to repeat this pitiful existence of pain. I know you hear me weeping, late at night when the rebuilt house is silent. You hear my wails of agony every time you turn the faucet. You cause me so much pain every time you walk in that room, that cursed room that trapped me in this hell.
I know you can hear me, but you ignore me, ignore my suffering. And because of this, I will make you suffer with me. You better lock your room at night, because this drain won't hold me for much longer.