; glory and gore [1]

T W E N T Y - S I X ; SUN

____Come raise the dead, I'm dreaming of the end...

Whispers tirelessly occupy one lost and disturbed woman's mind, the buzzing seemingfully never willing to stop until she solves the crucial mystery. Headaches become the sole thing she feels, bitter that her condition deteriorates each and every time she lays eyes upon her so called associates.

Although she rightfully should be blaming others for fooling her, gaining her trust to ultimately burn the parcel of goodness still hold within her fragile heart, she can't help but catching herself reassessing her own judgement.

The closest persons to her betrayed her in the past, faking empathy and gentleness whilst she was useful to them until they eventually abandoned her when she most needed support, happily looking upon her descent into hell.

Little did they know she'd soon make it her new home, igniting an undying desire to succeed and freezing down her hypersensitivity.

Sasha smothered the kind and caring girl who let everyone stomp over her hopes, feelings and confidence, crushing all three of these elements each time she'd drop her weapons down, willing to open the path conducting to her heart.

Fortunately for her, she concluded that burning down the bridges to her major weakness was the smartest thing she ever done.

Yet she finds herself as tormented as she used to be back then, helpless in front of incomprehensible logic.

Ever since Rollins brought up the snitch theory she simply couldn't manage to get it out of her head, no matter how hard she attempted to convince herself it may just be another of his dreadful traps.

She's spent the entirety of her free time processing the harsh and hurtful possibility that one of her own could be plotting against her, once again looking to destroy the efforts she made to put up her emotionless facade - the interior always so vulnerable.

The seemingfully endless road to recovery kept getting longer and tougher each time she walked through it, picking her remains from the ground and fixing herself up whilst tiny pieces of her soul got lost in the wind.

She repeated the process countless times to the point she now can't even imagine going back to that point. Because if she was to break again, nothing and no one would ever be able to repair her.

Banks isolates herself inside of her locker room, the place appearing as the unique one she may find something near an inner peace, reflecting over the past few months.

If she could get out the slightest of clue out of her hazy memories, perhaps the unforgiving maze her brain has turned into would disappear and she'd think clear again.

Gaze fixed on the ceiling's holes, recreating the ones presents inside of her reasoning, the Boston native almost forgets about the usual travelling's painful drawbacks.