crown [t. oikawa]

[zero]

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at nine years old, the child of darkness found out who she really was. her world cracked and shattered only to be pieced together again in a distorted form.

her father, once lively and full of laughter, now dead and full of silence. her mother, once firm and full of stories, now loose and full of emptiness. and the girl, once joyous and full of kindness, now forlorn and full of harshness. 

crack

can you hear that? that's the sound her life, mind, heart, soul beginning to crack. 

crash

can you hear that? that's the sound of her life crashing down as she knows it.

yet, out of aftermath of the horror and miserableness, the girl found something. 

a crown.

with dark wisps and blood red rubies that glinted slyly, the crown wept with sorrows and screamed with pain. but no matter how bright the gem of blood glinted or how loud the crown wailed, only the girl could sense the crown.

whether or not it was a bad or good thing, it was rather obvious which of the two it was. yet, this girl belonged to the darkness.

shouldn't she like the colour of blood? shouldn't she like the darkness? shouldn't she like the screams? shouldn't she like the bad things?

clink

can you hear that? that's the sound of her crowning herself. or rather, finding out about the crown that was always there. 

her life fell.

but her crown rose.

that day, the girl was crowned queen.

but at what cost?