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𝐓𝐰; 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬; 1239.
𝐓ime has a fascinating way of molding someone into exactly what she expects of them.
Years and years pass, soon we're no longer children and our lives get more and more complicated, nights glow brighter and days grow shorter as we work away our best years in some rundown gas stasion at the edge of the world.
Or at least, that's how her sister saved up enough money to move into a different place, one that didn't haunt them with faded memories and broken dreams of a life they always dreamed of.
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The clock ticks 7:14 as dawn sets over the horizon, the sky is bathed in beautiful, soft colors as the first clouds drift without a care in the world.
Birds chirp and insects buzz with anticipation, flowers turn their heads to the rising sun from their tiny cracks in the pavement as children pass by them on their way to school.
It's days like these 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦𝑛 wonders why children always leave their houses so early.
But then again everyone she asked insisted it's normal, and that's how it's been done for centuries.
It's too late to change it now.
One of many weird little quirks this town possessed, she convinced herself, too busy unpacking and dusting the countless spiderwebs from the house's creaky corners to care more than the initial, fleeting curiosity.
Her sister, Elizabeth, was older than her by a few years. She was always mom's favorite, but never bothered 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦𝑛, she knew her mom saw herself in her older sister, and with dad dead, mom needed something to hold onto.
That's why they never blamed her for leaving.
Elizabeth was tall and beautiful, soft brown hair always tied up in a neat braid.
Ah how pretty her braids where.
𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦𝑛 always loved wearing her sister's flowing sundresses, they felt so nice and soft, so light and magical.
Ah, but I'm sure any 12 year old would feel like that in a field of poppies wearing a straw hat and a flowing dress.
Walking down the seemingly endless hallway, 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦𝑛 noted how this was going to be such a pain to clean up.
The eye of the storm is always the safest. Or so it feels.
A shadow quickly moved in front of her, it stood there for what felt like eons, looking her in the eye. She stopped, the boxes stacked on top of each other in her arms wobbling and threatening to fall with each passing second.
