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[PROLOGUE - NOWHERE TO GO]
•❊⋆ - ⋆❊•
SHE FEELS AS IF EVERYTHING IS COMING TO AN END IN HER LIFE, and the feeling grows close to the vicious grasp of stone-cold reality.
five days, she has to remind herself for what feels like every waking hour, and although wholly expected in due time, the day's potential events stray too far away from conceivable — even for her.
she wonders if she's real. rather, is anything real?
she stares at the empty vase in the middle of the table. it's dusty. she could reach out and touch that dust from here, wiping it onto her finger, and then immediately be revolted by it and wipe it into her jeans.
but what's the point of that anyway . . . would there ever be a point to revisiting her memory ?
❊
IT'S a scrapbook. she's never seen it before.
why is this in her drawer?
she grazes the tips of her fingers along its rough leather backing, deathly curious, yet wanting to run away - far away from what her eyes show her, far away from everything, far away from the painful reality that stabs through her.
![[PROLOGUE - NOWHERE TO GO]](https://img.wattpad.com/987eb6ed90acd116efd36dfa0564c4f947996779/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5179694b444f7331524e627147673d3d2d3739393438303330382e313564343534323437626363383937633535323933333330323834352e6a7067?s=fit&w=720&h=720)
