If the Stars Fell │✎

"𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐸𝑙𝑙𝑒. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑏𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒." │IN PROGRESS

☽

Eleanore Grey is drowning.
Drowning and burning and being eaten alive by her sister's death. She can't cope with the truth, the terrible, poisonous truth that she will no longer be able to see Beatrix's smile, be able to caress her hair and laugh. That she has nothing left of her but her pink leather diary and the secrets she has poured onto those pages.
And the fact that Damien Thatcher, with his sweeping fuckboy glare and his tousled hair, is the reason behind her death.
And the reason for Eleanore's insanity.

Damien Thatcher is drowning.
Drowning and burning and being eaten alive by his mother's death, by his guilt, being choked by the dark secrets he hides under his perfect image. Trying to blur the world with cigarettes and alcohol and sleep. But all he gets is nightmares.
About his mother. About Beatrix, who he loved, who he destroyed, and who has died.
About Eleanore Grey.
Because the girl with the brown hair and the angry glare and the tears over her sister's death is the reason for his guilt.
And his insanity.

☽