My other life has just begun.

I feel nothing between the moments of creeping anxiety.

All I remember was that dark figure, towering above me. Whoever it was, all my life I never learned anything but to serve it.

But it's gone.

I see birds soaring high in the sky, green leaves are rustling all around me.

Nobody to aid me through.

The unpleasant noise.

My bare feet wade across a wet grass field, sinking in the mud slightly.

[ . . . ]

It's raining, but I don't want to wake up.

This is but a shadow of my world.

Nobody is here, nobody ever was.

I'm all alone and tired of walking.

I always wondered - why were our bodies created to ache every minute?

Pain in every breath reminds me of things I would like to forget.

Like the wounds around my wrists, like the chains that bound me. They still do.

Like the cracks in the sky-tearing wall behind me. Narrow and pitch black.

It was my only way out.

[ . . . ]

I see bottles on a wooden fence.

Falling down, one by one. The wind blows without mercy.

Cold shivers, I'm trembling and shaking in silence.

Can anyone hear me knocking on the door?

Is anyone waiting?

No.

I close the door.

Even with the storm outside, it's calm here.

The shelves, cupboards, and wardrobe are empty.

It's abandoned.

As everything was.

Even the bed is only a frame.

I will just lie down, here, on the floor.

I really need no one, I do really need nothing.

I will just close my eyes and hope to just sleep.

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It's all I've ever wanted, but the world never lets me rest.

[ . . . ]

My own, quiet, cozy, dark place.

Gone.

It's them. I am wanted back, they always forced me to believe that my home is back there.

In the binds.

I hear their laughter, while I carry out meaningless tasks until I have no strength to get up.

"You're free."

They say and laugh in my face.

[ . . . ]

It's her. The Queen.

I remember now. Her name, carved on my chest, it's like embers are under my skin.

Forced, to the knees.

"My child."

The voice is deep and resonates throughout entire chambers.

"You were taken away, like this."

I don't want to remember. Not, not yet.

"My dear love. This is your home."

I feel like... I'm about to faint...

"Child? Are you alright? You're too pale."

...

"Lift her."

The sole person responsible for it. I don't want to, I don't want to remember her name... leave me alone

But it's useless.

They apply their fancy aromatic powders, black mascara, paints... strip me down and force into their gaudy gown.

"You look a thousand times better, child."

I feel like trash.

"Please, do say something."

My lips open, but I can't utter a word. They tremble. I just realized all my life, I never learned to cry. If I could, I would collapse and do just that... but I can't, not in front of her. I have to stand and pretend that everything is alright.

"Child. I urge you, say something."

My throat is clogged up.

"Escort her to her room. Let her rest."

They take me, they take me away, again! No, not there. Please.

[ . . . ]

Caged in this cluttered chamber. I see her dolls, staring at me, watching and recording every second of my life. I see her paintings, reminding me of all my previous prisons.

I want to burn them, break everything.

I am 'free'.

What does that even mean?

"The banquet is ready."

They call me.

I do not wish to be there.

I can't even flinch, it's like I'm paralyzed, but I have to walk there. They won't start without me.

They won't forgive my absence.

There it is.

The blood is pouring out of goblets onto the floor as they are devouring their meat.

The queen is sitting right in front of me, she watches. She always watches.

"Are you not hungry, child?"

My shaking hand reaches for the bone, the putrid stench of death invades my nostrils.

I can't... I can't do that... not again, please, not again.

"Do eat."

Her other servants implore me. They too, don't want to be punished.

Bite after bite, he is swallowed and gone. What was his name? I do not know. Nobody does, nobody ever will.

[ . . . ]

Alone, in darkness, but their red, glowing eyes penetrate me.

The shadows are dancing on the walls, to keep me from forgetting that I'm trapped here.

Even If I escaped once, I'm kept from believing it'll happen ever again.

It gets harder every time.

How do I live on, with hope? How do I walk away, before all possibilities fade away?

Every tick of the clock reminds me how seconds, minutes, and hours of my life are wasted.

I can't move.

Can I do it alone? I ask for help every night, but no help comes.

It's all left to circumstances.

Surely, there must be more to life than that.

I need to run farther, and farther away, disregarding consequences, to a place where they can't find me.

[ . . . ]

The walls are like closing in on me. The great disturbance is ought to come and will be clearly heard at once, but when it happens, I will be long gone.

This time, nobody will find me.