𝙿𝚞𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎𝚜.

"Zemira, sing me a song," she said, her voice delicate like flowers, her touch soft like plums.

"I can't sing. You know that," she said, holding her hand back.

"Don't lie. You have a lovely voice," she recoiled, coursing her thumb back and forth against the back of Zemira's palm.

"I don't lie, Calla. Beauty isn't something you can lie your way across. Nor is perfection. I'm too lazy to lie my way into beauty, that's why I choose not to."

"I'm an ugly being. I'd rather drown in self pity than break a sweat trying to lie myself into the belief of my beauty."

When she wasn't busy, she would lie down on her dirty floor and dream. She would dream about a lot of things, things that seemed to only come to life inside her four walls.

There, she would be the love of her own room.

In this world, she was everything she'd ever wanted to be. As if God had placed a million puzzle pieces that would all connect to one another, telling her to pick and choose as she wished—no objective, no goals. She would thank him scruffily, taking all the puzzles with pretty colors and cute designs and leaving all the dirty, ugly ones behind.

It wasn't unusual for her—this strange life of such. Her mother and father were never around, leaving her thoughts to crawl carelessly throughout her walls to the point they shared stories with her.

However this story was different. She could feel it—sense it in her skin. As she connected every puzzle piece she thought fit, it seemed as though this certain want for more latched onto her skin and pulled her face to a grin.

This strange being she called God looked down at her, eyeing her work. She however did not fret about who watched, for she kept going and going.

Her smile spread wider, her hands working faster. Pieces seemed to connect with each other in an instant, finding a relatively strange new relationship with them.

Her black, long hair dripped over her shoulder as her concentration blinded her, eyes crazed and full of delight.

When she was done with her puzzle, she stood up, admiring it. In front of her layed a doll with the hair she's always wanted, the pretty face she always dreamed of, the body she wished she had, and the heart and soul she desired more than anything.

She was not in her room anymore. She was not on her floor covered in dust. She was in the depths of her dream that not even the loudest symphony could awake her. Not that she cared, anyways. For this is what she always wanted; to drown and drown in the delight of her own want.

"Girl, do you know what you do here?" The strange man asked. She looked up, her pale skin glowing at his presence. Of course she didn't. In fact, for the past twenty minutes of her craze, all she did was do what her heart desired.

"No," she said, her eyes squinting at the golden light. The man chuckled, finding amusement in the girl's strange ways. "Then why do you ever work so hard on this puzzle piece? All I ever said was to do as you wish, for I did not command you nor did I threaten you."

She blinked, looking down at the pretty doll she had made. Her eyes sparkled in awe and admiration, a hint of jealousy washing over her. "You've answered your own question. You said 'do as you please' and I decided to make a piece of art." She extended her hand, caressed the pieces as if it was her lover.

The man hummed, nodding as if he understood everything she had said. Crossing his arms, the man's curiosity got the best of him. "Tell me girl, why? Do you wish to attain anything from this? A wish, perhaps?"