𝟑.𝟖 ― ❛ 𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ❜

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—𝑀𝑦 𝐵𝑜𝑑𝑦'𝑠 𝑀𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐶𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠
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✧.*𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑅𝑇𝑌✧.*

❝𝐿𝑜𝑜𝑘, 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

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❝𝐿𝑜𝑜𝑘, 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒
𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡
𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢.❞
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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗧—𝗕𝗢𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡—𝗔𝗦 𝗜𝗧 𝗥𝗔𝗡 𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗬, 𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗦𝗞𝗜𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗗. She was deep in thought about her last interaction with Natasha, regret cursing her. How could Luna be so cruel, so harsh? Natasha was her friend. Unfortunately, Natasha couldn't be her friend after what she said. It didn't help that it was the anniversary of her sister's death. She blamed herself; no matter what Natasha said, she would forever blame herself. If she didn't get into that argument with Laura, she wouldn't have gotten into a car crash. It was Luna's fault.

     It was funny. Luna was supposed to be a heartless assassin who felt no remorse for who or how she killed; at that moment, she was the opposite. But even if she wasn't heartless, she was still an assassin—a murderer, and that would never change. Never. After a few minutes, Luna walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body. She locked her bedroom door before opening her dresser, taking out an old rock band t-shirt and black leggings. She changed into her clothes, and suddenly, there was a knock at her door.

     "Hey," a muffled voice said. "It's Clint." Luna unlocked her door, and Clint slowly opened the door while she dried her with her towel.

     "Natasha said something, didn't she?" Luna asked, turning to Clint.

     "No," he shook his head. "Why?"

     "No reason," she replied, feeling relieved, but she was still worried about why Clint was in her room. "But why are you here?"

     "I know that today is hard for you." Clint started, quickly catching her attention. "Since today's Laura's anniversary"—she stopped her movements at the mention of her dead sister—"I wanted to check on you—make sure you're okay." She placed her towel on her dresser and looked down, her wet brunette hair hiding her face like a curtain covering a window. She squeezed her eyes shut and brought her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose, pinching it.

     "I'm fine, Clint," Luna reassured him. "I don't need you to check on me."

     Clint nodded slowly, giving her a melancholy smile before saying, "Okay. Just know if you need someone to talk to you can always talk to us. You know that, right?"

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 • 𝑵. 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒇𝒇 ¹Where stories live. Discover now