I’m not sure how long I’ve been trapped in this room.
It feels like an eternity.
All I know is that I’m still alive… if this miserable state even counts as living.
No one has come to check on me.
I haven’t been able to use the bathroom in time — my beautiful dress is ruined, clinging to my filthy skin.
I haven’t seen a mirror, but I can feel how disgusting I must look.
I hate them.
I hate everyone.
I hate myself for trusting again when I had sworn I never would.
A soft breeze stirred the stale air.
The door creaked open.
Nella walked in, smiling like a child entering a candy store.
In her hands, she held a thick book.
She stood in front of me, waving the book as she asked, in a syrupy sweet voice:
“Tell me, what subject are you good at?”
My mind — drugged, broken, desperate
