Nahida0308
whip. She had been whipping herself for years to satisfy the expectations of men who didn't even know her name.ElementThe Lie (The President)The Truth (The Woman)The ScentExpensive cologne, bourbon, and cigarsLavender oil, salt air, and old sweatThe SkinScarred, rugged, sun-beaten leatherSoft, bruised, porcelain-paleThe EyesOne blind, one filled with avariceBoth clear, drowning in griefThe HandsCalloused from 'the work'Trembling, stained with ink and regretShe thought of Wilbur. If he saw her now, would he even fight her? Or would he just laugh because the greatest "play" in the history of the SMP wasn't his explosion-it was her very existence?She reached for a silk robe, wrapping it around herself. It felt dangerously light. She had built a city of glass and gold, a monument to her own survival, but she was the only one in it who knew that the foundation was a lie. As the steam filled the room, erasing her reflection, she realized the most terrifying thing of all: she had worn the mask so long, she wasn't sure if there was a person left underneath, or just another hollow room in the casino.