CHAPTER III - the worst scums.

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portrait of penitence.
chapter III , the worst scums.
( season 1. )



. . .











( HOLLY ! )

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( HOLLY ! )

SHE HAD BEEN UP FOR HOURS NOW

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SHE HAD BEEN UP FOR HOURS NOW.

The sun was up in the sky, and the unfiltered light penetrated through the glass window of the attic and landed on the carpet of her room where she fell asleep reading. She was finished with the book, her only reason for staying on the floor, unmoving for however many hours; she had lost count. She could not just lay on the floor and mope over spoilt milk. It was time to get up and clean; her least favourite part about losing her temper.

She fixed an out-of-place curl and sighed; her hair was effortlessly beautiful on good days. On other days, however, it wasn't even worth mentioning.

Step by step, she descended down the ladder to the floor of the house's four other dwellers, one of which loved cooing and screaming for fun. 'Babies,' she rolled her eyes, knocking on Elena's always open door, and leaned against the frame.

Holly's niece was truly the closest thing to perfect. She had a baby six months ago and lost her parents a mere two months later. Yet, she still maintained the beauty she had grown up with. Not a single bag under her eyes, nor sallow skin or any indication she was suffering in silence. She had brown hair as straight as a pin, and her face barely ever needed a touch-up. She could fool anyone into thinking she was perfectly fine save for her eyes.

Elena's eyes were the kind that told a story without her lips needing to say any words at all. They spoke a thousand soundless syllables and conveyed a story more compelling than Shakespeare was ever capable of penning without women dressed as men or crazy as a crutch.

"Good morning," she smiled, forcing a faint pang of guilt to soar into Holly's heart.

"Good morning," Holly smiled, tight-lipped, "And good morning to you too!"

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