I've been writing this for about two months now (working on its structure), and this is all I have so far. The entire story is going to be backwards, and is straight up horror, so it is a challenge to write. I would very much love any feedback!
(WARNING: Includes character death, not really for the squeemish)

 

"

The vibrations of the balcony's chimes synchronize with the neighborhoods wind, and the sound is of such heart-ease that you wouldn't consider the horror that lay behind its home's closed doors.
It's me.
I lay on the dining room's dark lamton hardwood floor with a box cutter in my left hand, and both of my wrists are cut deep through the nerves that would of kept me alive. There's a note written on a crumbled beige paper which reads "My name is Kang Seulgi, and I want to die", but it isn't written by me, though I did want to die.

"Save yourself from the rats in the walls, they can break the surface you created."

The silence is beginning to become too loud. It is daunting. My skin rots into a poisoning smell. You can't find life in my eyes, not even if you look very closely. My body's only use is to dispose into my grave, and my existence reflects into an underworld so deep and far away from life. I am not real anymore.

"There's no sense in finding hearts in heathens."

"