The girl in the light blue sweater shuffles her feet and twists her fingers around in a way that makes me look up at her face and notice the slight downward tilt of her smile and droop in her eyes. She doesn’t want to be here and the sweater is too tight for her liking. I can tell because she pulls at the sleeves in a nervous way that I sometimes do to my skin. 

Eyes. There’s nobody here, and yet I feel the eyes of the world, rubbing against me like thick honey I can’t wash off. Such an odd sensation, feeling as though me and my tied up ginger hair and bandaged arms, me and my miss-matched socks and flower dress, me and my confusion are out on display.

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 of us soldiers are the same, unique traits and personalities rendered irrelevant in the face of war. Every step, every turn, was freakishly accurate. Because that’s what we were trained to do. 

I had woken up from another daymare. But it had been my worst one yet. 

“A Longing for the Past” continuation~

No weakness, no hesitation, and no guilt. A “perfect” society created only by strict rules with no opposition or loopholes standing in its way.

From the ashes of the past, one man has a vision to get rid of violence and crime, creating AI with the power to control the minds of the people. It’s so perfect that no one knows they're always being watched. 

We were not chosen to protect the world, we were broken to protect him.

 Don’t trust your family, they may be dead already…