The feeling of cold metal against my thigh as I inched my way across the ballroom elegant yet unknowingly dangerous. Like a wolf in a sheep’s costume, I glance across the room and lock my eyes with his. Dressed in black and ruggedly handsome. His emerald orbs glazed over with an emotion I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It seemed as time slowed as we gazed into each other’s eyes before hastily breaking eye contact. The music slowed and he made his move, making his way across the maze of oblivious dancers before stopping in front of me. I studied his face for any sign of emotion, anything that could give him away before resting my eyes on his waiting hand. Tenderly lifting up my hand I rested it onto his. His rough palms engulfing my hand as he guided me towards the dance floor. Moving in unison we danced the night away, without a word but somehow with mutual understanding. The cool dagger strapped to my thigh served as a bitter reminder of what was to come. But as the music slowed and I rested my head against his shoulder and inhaled the intoxicating scent of pine my heartbeat quickens. But as every second passes, I can feel him guiding us further and further from the middle of the ballroom. Soon enough we were in an enclosed hallway. I move to step out of his embrace but his grip tightens. His eyes dancing mischievously he leans in, his hot breath hitting my ear. “It’s quite a pity someone so pretty has to end like this.” Reaching under my dress I feel the familiar smooth metal flicking out the dagger I pressed it against his neck for a split second his eyes revealed his surprise.
“You should know that villains often come with pretty faces,” I replied in the same sultry voice I had practiced in the mirror just a few hours ago. Circling around him like a predator to prey, “So who sent you?” My voice ringing out beneath the roar of the music from the other room. His eyes scrutinized my every move as his hand drifted towards his back pocket. Whipping out his dagger we circled each other, matching each other’s pace as if dancing our own sort of twisted tango.
“Guess,” he smirked, his eyes cool and calculating. As the music slowed in the background he lunged forward catching me in surprise only giving me barely a second to sidestep his dagger slashing wildly in the air. I wince as I felt the sharp blade graze the side of my back, my dagger clanking noisily as it slid down the hallway. Catching him off balance I pounce, pinning him to the ground, kicking his dagger to the side. My eyes narrow as I feel his familiar palms caressing my hands, and for a fraction of a second, I let my guard down. Giving him a way out, flipping me onto my back he pinned me down on the cold granite floor. I feel a fluttering in my stomach as he stared into my eyes, before trailing his hot gaze to my lips. And for a split second, I swore I heard him mutter under his breath.
“Till the next dance… princess” then, he was gone. His dark cape fluttering behind him as he fled the scene. Looking out into the darkness at his disappearing shadow I touch my lips as if just remembering to breathe. My stomach involuntarily somersaulted as his words echoed throughout my mind. My logical hatred for him was betrayed by my body and soul as hands were already craving his touch, my lungs missing the iconic smell of pine I had gotten used to. But I was determined to finish this mission, even those soft brown locks, draping over his forehead won’t stop me from that. Standing up I dusted myself off, picking up his dagger and slipping mine back into my sheath my imagination ran wild. A seemingly never-ending stream of thoughts poured through my mind. Slipping through the castle door I looked up, into the darkened sky. Shimmering with a million fairy lights, emblazing the august night sky. But at that moment, I could only see his eyes, exquisite, like priceless emerald. Getting lost among the pine forests, running through the fields of Ireland with the exotic aura of a newborn dragon. Butterflies erupting from my stomach at the thought of the next dance, meeting my prince.

The blood, crimson red, spilled over, staining the walls and pouring over the floor. Smiling I surveyed the gruesome scene before me as I rested my steel spiked blood-covered boots onto his gaping torso. Towering over his mangled body my eyes bloodthirsty. A sickening crunch rang out into the deadly quiet room as I sank my foot into his chest, blood gushing out. “After all revenge is best served cold” I laugh as the last flicker of light fades from his eyes, stooping I pick up his crown. Stepping over his lifeless body, across the blood-covered floors of the throne room, tracking ****** footprints as I ascend the steps. My steel-toed boots clanking loudly against the marbled steps I wipe his blood off my cheek, grinning at the metallic aftertaste. Walking towards the throne I once kneeled before, eyeing the glimmering jewels with hunger. I fixed the gold-encrusted crown upon my head and sat down, sheathing my blood-covered sword with triumph. In a world of locked doors, the one with a key is king. As I numbly assessed the ****** bodies scattered across the once luxurious throne room, crimson covered the walls and glossed over the floor. A malicious smile made its way across my face, red was my favorite color anyways.

I scream but no one can hear me, I’m alone in a room full of people. Society, scrutinizing my every move… My mind racing with all the things that could happen, overthinking every small detail of my life. Plastering over my cracks, covering my imperfections with a perfectly rehearsed laugh as I try not to cry. Only until I’m alone at night, I don’t have to hide behind this mask of happiness. Finally, I can wipe away this makeup of perfection and allow the tears I spent so long suppressing to finally surface. Practicing my fake smile for tomorrow. I’m a perfectionist, and if I have to fake it till I make it, then so be it. But alone I sit wishing I was as perfect as I looked… as I tried to seem. I’ll play the part until they see through my masquerade. I’ll be perfect till I’m not.

My life, overpouring with a tsunami of failure. Constantly flooding my entire life, a painful reminder of my past. As I lie there on my bathroom floor wishing I could just have a clean slate. Wishing that underneath these scars I could have a soul. But mine sits heavily in my chest blackened and burnt, I guess I stood too close to the fire. Letting myself get lost in the flames, believing the lie that I would resurface like a phoenix. But I’m in too deep, I feel myself get pulled under. Like quicksand, swallowing me, leaving me gasping for air barely alive. Sitting alone in my little corner of the universe watching the people around me. Watching the world go by, without me. Looking over at them, flawless, laughing without a care in the world. The main character of their life, something I know I would never be. After all which the main character is made blatantly ruined?

Rain can wash away almost everything. Soothe the pain, finally freeing the tears you spent so long suppressing. To allow you to drown in your sadness, only to resurface stronger. Befriend your demons, and face your fears. Your screams of agony dampened beneath the roar of the thunder. For the first time in forever, you’re able to hear your thoughts, drenched to the bone but finally in peace. Alone with your thoughts, you have space to think. To finally let out your pent-up emotions and wander deep within your soul as you listen to the rhythmic beats of Mother Nature. Feeling the warm autumn breeze blow against your wet skin. Rain brings comfort in your darkest times. It’s a living reminder that the sun will resurface and better days will come.

She was a girl, he was a boy. They met at the wrong place at the wrong time. But it was written on the stars as they danced through the rain, with the silvery moonlight as their spotlight and the asphalt as their stage. Dancing away their pain and sadness, bringing the light. Without a care in the world, they were finally free. The little prince and his rose, on their own planet, in their own world.

I asked him what his favorite color is, but he didn’t know. Looking into his hazel eyes, marbled with color contrasting elegantly against his tanned skin. That was when I decided to find his favorite color.
Lying on the soft grass I pointed up into the sky. The quiet pastel blue covering us like a blanket. But he only shook his head.
Hiking up a steep cliff I pointed to the oak tree, sitting proud and tall luscious green leaves spilling over the sides. But he only shook his head.
Sitting on a rock we stare up into the sunset, yellow merging with orange. But he only shook his head.
Standing up I’m ready to move on when I trip. Wincing as a sharp stone sliced a deep **** in my thigh. My blood spills out, crimson red dripping down my bare leg. His eyes mesmerized, almost glowing as he leaned in close his nose centimeters away from the river of blood flowing out of the wound. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath. Opening his glowing eyes he stared up at me, smiling. That’s when I thought it was red. Little did I know… it was blood.

“I find peace in the rain” and with that, she walked into the rain and didn’t look back...
That was the last time anyone saw her. She was a girl, a broken girl. She was a perfectly broken girl that lived under a broken roof in a broken world. After all, when your life falls apart it’s hard not to fall with it.