[location: somewhere behind cabin #4]
[There is a girl lying in the snow. She is wearing a red dress and chains, and far more blood than any girl should wear.
A corner of her mind informs her she is no longer in the prison cell the rebels threw her into. Not that she particularly cares. Instead, she stares numbly at the wrong sky with tired lilac eyes. Blue lips frozen by cold. Broken nails deep in pristine snow. She doesn’t cry though. She fears that if she starts she will never be able stop. And heavens know she has already cried enough.
Better lie still in the snow, like a twisted, castaway doll broken beyond repair. Torn open, torn open again. Children can be so cruel these days.]
[open post. enjoy.]