And so, like every other night, I will go out onto my balcony at dusk and play pretend. I will smile, because people don’t like when the sun is angry, and I will let this kingdom be deceived by a facade for a little longer. I will be their illusion, the royal family’s lie. And I will do it again. Over and over again. 

A sixteen-year-old me had run into the garden just as wild as her surroundings, with messy tears running down her cheeks and found the best thing in her life.

The blood is everywhere, reeking of death. It trails to that door one drop, one drag at time.

All parts to developing a memorable lead.