Nineteen years old and in Death’s hold, Charlotte Douglas wanted to escape the ruckus. With tears in her eyes and a blade in her hand, she just wanted to end the pain as planned. But the angels wouldn’t let her. There was more pain for her to endure. There’s a sadness in her eyes because it’s the pain of all his lies. Her eyes that were once bright are now dark and dim like a cloudy summer’s night. The window to her beautiful soul is replaced with an empty hole. No life, no love, no reason to care, there’s too much pain for her to bare. The weight has not been lifted from her chest and no matter how hard she tries it will never be her best. She wants to scream out for help but she’s afraid. She’s afraid of the mess that he has made. The mess is her heart, a sad disaster that used to be a glorious work of art. You see, her heart bleeds inside and out. Inside there is blood, but outside there drips sadness and doubt. The heart pleads to mend, for the reign or torture to end, and for a godsend.
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