The night. She loved the night. Rushes of cool air, no matter how hot it had been during the day.
The hideous reality of the day seemed to disappear. Fade out to black.
The night was the only time when things went right for her.
Rumors spread like diseases. They snapped every heart apart and cut every face in two. Yet they went unnoticed.
She tried to prove she could help.
She tried to prove that she was an ideal guardian of the Truth.
She tried to fight the rumors away, fight them away to the darkness they belonged, just to show she was capable of surviving this domestic disgrace.
All for a few turns of the faces and a sign of Innocence.
Nothing worked. Promises broken, black tongues continuing to eject their venom. Innocence was shattered, and yet it escaped.
It escaped, but it no longer wanted to. It wanted to lay down in fields and die, join the Truth in wherever you go after you pass away.
Die and join everything and everyone that she cared for and had been taken away from her.
Die and let this tragedy, this pain, this endless loss be over.
Yet she couldn’t. No matter how many times she bled, how much she tried, she was still alive.
It stung her deeper than anything she ever imagined.
She would lose sleep, lose appetite, lose her flesh. She would be wan and bony and tired.
Yet she could feel nothing.
The world slogged by, dull and uninteresting. The blur of people and buildings and the world, once so fascinating, seemed to fade to grays. Not black and white, not color. It was shades of gray, colorless and confusing. There was no right or wrong anymore. Or maybe there was, but she just couldn’t see it.
She had had enough of this confusion, these incomplete confessions, this submissive restriction. The instructions she had set would finally repeat.
She cared for nothing, she cared for no one except for the reflection in her mirror. How long could she keep running, keep escaping, keep living like this?
She didn’t know.
It was her against the world.
And the world was winning.
The hideous reality of the day seemed to disappear. Fade out to black.
The night was the only time when things went right for her.
Rumors spread like diseases. They snapped every heart apart and cut every face in two. Yet they went unnoticed.
She tried to prove she could help.
She tried to prove that she was an ideal guardian of the Truth.
She tried to fight the rumors away, fight them away to the darkness they belonged, just to show she was capable of surviving this domestic disgrace.
All for a few turns of the faces and a sign of Innocence.
Nothing worked. Promises broken, black tongues continuing to eject their venom. Innocence was shattered, and yet it escaped.
It escaped, but it no longer wanted to. It wanted to lay down in fields and die, join the Truth in wherever you go after you pass away.
Die and join everything and everyone that she cared for and had been taken away from her.
Die and let this tragedy, this pain, this endless loss be over.
Yet she couldn’t. No matter how many times she bled, how much she tried, she was still alive.
It stung her deeper than anything she ever imagined.
She would lose sleep, lose appetite, lose her flesh. She would be wan and bony and tired.
Yet she could feel nothing.
The world slogged by, dull and uninteresting. The blur of people and buildings and the world, once so fascinating, seemed to fade to grays. Not black and white, not color. It was shades of gray, colorless and confusing. There was no right or wrong anymore. Or maybe there was, but she just couldn’t see it.
She had had enough of this confusion, these incomplete confessions, this submissive restriction. The instructions she had set would finally repeat.
She cared for nothing, she cared for no one except for the reflection in her mirror. How long could she keep running, keep escaping, keep living like this?
She didn’t know.
It was her against the world.
And the world was winning.