Trash Chapter #5
201 Words
I almost became deaf from the cries from the 20—something individuals in the hall. They all shouted about how perilous it sounded, how they can pay for their lives, with anything at all.
Some though were particularly quiet. The soldier, the boy, and several others. They just stood with an unfazed look at everything. Somehow it spooked even me. Why am I here? I asked for the umpteenth time.
“Why am I here? Tell me! What shitty page do I have on my plate?” This time I asked with a voice raised above every other.
Was I crying?
Tears streaked down to my chin. But my eyes bore to Dorian's eyes. “At least I need to know why I am here. What wrong did I commit?”
“....”
The people crying non—coherently did shut up then. 20 pairs of eyes turned towards Dorian, and back at me. I shudder unconsciously but I still didn't back down.
*Clap Clap*
“Alexia Violet Greenwood. Age, 23. Popstar with tens songs topping the Billboard chart, six of which got you grammy awards.
Net worth of approximately 280 million US dollars. You've sung tens of songs,
- Writer
