01.
“an angel will keep you from sorrow”
— never be alone, winx.
———
Willow Harding was under the impression of love. She believed herself to be fitting partner to Lev. Like a glove.
For the most part, no evidence against it was found.
“Look! There's a lady on the terrace! And she's going to jump!"
In Greek mythology, Zeus believed human beings were perfect. So he split them in halves.
"What's the fuss? Why are you shouting?"
Halves are supposed to track each down, marry them, spend eternity in loving them. Had she been that naive as to trust the Greek gods? And Zeus, of all! That pompous pervert.
"Miss! Miss! Can you get down! Do you need help?"
Another voice, "Please stay where you are, as you are. We're sending help!"
Don't.
Her breathing hitched. Sweat bloomed in palms, hiking up her evening gown — a slim fit, colour of chlorine pools. A watch in gold was the only thing visible as twilight began to fall. Somewhere, the sun sank beyond the horizontal line, somewhere — she heard Lev smile holding the youthful girl's pale hand, chanting promises, matching steps, buying panda plushie and cat kitchens, touring Paris daytime when it rained—
Her heart.
How suffocating! To imagine your partner with your replacement.
When after you die.
You aren't died.
At the heights of paranoia, she nursed her heart and balanced herself upon the riser, feet afraid and—
"Don't move!"
She winced as she braced herself for the impact. So much pain.
It's true — suicide isn't for everyone. And many back out on the last moment. It takes countless years of planning to do what Willow Harding is going to. Unlike others — Willow has zero chances of regretting it — Lev has made it pretty clear that he would visit her funeral but only with a plus one. His heart is dark, but functioning — it needs a pretty lady to reside in it.
Willow isn't the pretty lady. She once was, but that was ages ago, when was well and good, twenty nine and eager to tie knots with him. Eager to live.
"Miss! Please don't be rec—"
A booming headache. Suddenly her sense of balance is shaken. With tremendous amount of emotions, a tide in fact, Willow collapsed with arms open, as if trying to find wings on the last moment, the worst of all.
Goodbye, Lev. If Eliana Ramos is your way of reconquering passion, if she's the one you want, bless her heart. I'll make it easier for you. I'll cushion the blow with my own flesh.
The sky needs to shower blood if there's any chance for Willow Harding to be alive.
"CALL 911, YOU DUMB FUCK!"
———
that sucked on a phenomenal level lmao xx
