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a.
the gods hang their heads in shame, she was a disgrace, it didn't take a genius for her to know. the whispers of the empty room was deafening, the stares of the eyes in the mirrors were accusing, she had put the precious crown to shame.
mother, father; forgive me.
meet me at six, it read, yet she laid face down in her bed. she knew exactly where he meant, the map of the location tattooed in her head.
but, perhaps, maybe, if not.
decisions, decisions, choices from different ends, should she deny? or should she lie?
in times like these, she felt it would be easier; to breathe under water.
