Tomorrow is a blur for everyone but not for her. She knows too well that her future is just a repeat of her past. Bloody. Cold. Bruised. That will be her. Will she risk to have that tomorrow again just to treasure the blink of happiness before it w...
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I offered him kindness. I gave him love. Then again, I was nothing. He didn't do anything. Not even with my begging. He only looked... and walked away.
- Memory Journal: The Plague page 15 -
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The shadows on the walls dance as her consciousness pushes back to reality. Everything blurs and sways. She wants to scream but won't. It has been too frequent to be horrified... so used with the tremble it causes on her bones. After all, it's only the usual painstaking transition to the present.
It's a dream. She is dreaming again. But unlike a common dream, the events continue inside her head. The coldness of the rain seeps as it caresses her skin. No. It's not raining. If it is, she shouldn't feel it inside her luxurious bedroom. She is on her bed with all the pillows as soft as the clouds. But instead of comfort, she can feel the sheets moistened with the blood of the past. The coldness and the grime seem real. If only the shadows don't block her sight around her, she swears she could see its fresh crimson hue.
It's not an ordinary dream. It's another of her memories. She believes it so. It's haunting and painful... Just like the rest of what she had known.
Wobbling and heaving, she turns on the lamp and hurriedly digs on one of her journals. She needs the pink. The one adorned with the poor imitation of the jewels of a king. It was a childish design that's unchanged through time. Shaking, she picks a pen, turns it to the twentieth page and starts scribbling...
On the blank page words begin to form the descriptions of laughter and pain. They eloquently narrate the story of a noble lady, a daughter of an official, fated for the monarchy. How her love strived with her father's commands. Her will dried and wilted with the traitorous tasks. With all her might she took another way. She chose to capture, not the throne but the eyes and heart of whom it was owned.
She glowed with the success. She beamed with the response. How her heart would beat with just a glance. But all were just futile, for touches may pure but only taken like a thief... forbidden but coveted... so near yet so unreachable. How a kiss escalated to the last memory of screams and the world swirling as her head rolled at the royal square.
Why are they coming back again? The king. The memory of his gentle almond eyes as they shed the tears of losing his seductress. His soulmate. His beloved... His poison. However, he couldn't even let anyone see that truth just because he was bounded with the kingdom he ruled. He was surrounded not by his protectors but with the zealous queen he never treasured.
Though he couldn't help what he was, she learned to hate of his incompetence. She pushed all the blame to him. After all, he was all powerful and she was merely a daughter... a pawn to one's greed... a puppet... an easy target... so easy to trampled with. If only he chose to fight of what was right. If only he didn't betray the heart that longingly beat for him... If only he didn't give her an ounce of importance... If only...
