once upon a time, there was a young woman. she held her head high and wore a cross around her neck. when she walked, it was with a certain femininity, as if holding up a legacy.
she had a nice, stable day job at a public library. it was quaint and quiet, really only occupying elderly men and the occasional shy adolescent. she didn't like speaking to people, but that was unimportant. she would continue to smile sweetly as she spoke to the people, watching them absorb her sugary words.
she hadn't a care in the world. her life was utter bliss. she liked to read silently, alone, tucked away from the rest of the world.
the woman had always been quite skinny, so nobody really took notice when her bones began to show. her blonde hair, which fell to her defined collar bones, was thin and delicate. nobody seemed to notice when it began to fall out. her eyes, which were a steely and bright blue, began to glaze over. but that didn't stir any alarm.
she fought and fought but, she didn't know what against. she started to realize she had nothing to strive for. nothing to live for. the woman realized that her illness was captivating and addicting. she realized she wanted it. she wanted to be sick. she was disgusting and outright hazardous, but such a gradual change isn't noticed until you looked at the past. and she was part of nobody's past. nobody's present. nobody's future.
there once was a young woman. her head was down and her eyes were closed off and searching. she squeezed the cross around her neck, as if praying that her next step wouldn't kill her. just so she could feel the searing pain that aroused her senses once more. if only for a moment. when she walked, it was with a certain fear, as if she was straying from a legacy. she had a nice, stable schedule at the asylum. they treated her well. they tried to speak to her, but she only laughed and dismissed them.
one day, everyone around her began disappearing. the people who went towards her never came back. she walked around with a bloody neck and wrists, twitching as she went along. the cross around her neck swung as she hunched over to get a book from an end table. the small table was next to a cozy chair, soft and cushioned with a fluffy blanket draped over the arm. she sat down, crossing her legs and resting her bleeding arm on the side. she picked up the book and read as she slowly drifted off to a world no one knew. she never jolted awake, as she usually had when ever she heard a noise. not even when voices were yelling and yelling to her;
diana!
diana,
come home darling,
dinner is ready!
don't let it get cold.
