{ ✘♟✘ }
She shouldn’t be anyone’s, in fact, she doesn’t think
she wants to be. It had been too late for that anyway,
for her to belong to someone naught but death
would take her, and they already have; yet she is not
truly under it’s wing. After all, she still had coporeal
form, correct?
❝ …I won’t belong to someone- I won’t. ❞
Her outburst is said to herself, and yet she isn’t aware
of prying ears.
{ ✘♟✘ }
❝ You’ve… ❞
She doesn’t want to tell them anything- she doesn’t
want to pay them a glance, nor a compliment because
she is afraid, so afraid. Her extremities are quaking
with fright, but she had to tell them, to tell them-
❝ You have pretty eyes… ❞
She doesn’t want to speak, she doesn’t want to talk; and
so her pallid, bony, spindly appendages, almost like
a spider’s legs, cover her filthy mouth.