↳ ❝ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 ... 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒. ❞
The caverns of her dark soul were built from shards of shattered glass; each a testament to the labyrinth of trauma she has truly...
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𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 of the manor, a window was open, and a girl — as vigorous as the sturdy wood of the pines that covered the horizon — let her legs dangle from the edge, feeling the coldness of the early night on her bronzed skin. She was still dressed in her training gear, her brunette hair pulled away from her face in a sophisticated braid, and her eyes were closed as she let the dim rays of the stars warm her overheated flesh. Her lips were pulled in a tight line, and her heart pumped blood through dilated veins as her brain released more anxiety than usual.
Khairiah's eyes went to the clock on the inside of her house, taking notice of the skinnier hand that ticked every second. She counted one, two, and three, before sighing, and began rubbing her hands down the sides of her face from desperation. Her fingers, which had been cooled from the colder concrete, rested on her eyes for a few seconds in an attempt to resist slumber. Each nightfall promised the descent into a realm, not of rest, but of relentless nightmares where the haunting echoes of her own Games persist. Khairiah was still stiffened in her spot as she fought her mind, the shadows that had begun surging in the boundaries of her vision, scratching at the entrance of her soul, begging to be let in. She shook her head rapidly, hands going to her temples as she regained composure.
