0.1| 𝒯𝒽𝑒 ℛ𝑜𝓈𝑒

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The World often worked in mysterious ways.

Or at least that was what most people told themselves. But as with many things it was just a lie. A way to lessen the hurt, the pain. Because so long as life was a mystery, people could tell themselves that the bad things maybe happened for good reasons, in the end they'd get through it and they'd be better off.

Suffering could mean something, all the hurt, misery and anguish equated to something. It had not been for nothing.

Dr Chloé Arcenuax could no longer force herself into believing such weak and pathetic lies. There was no great lesson in any of it, all that pain was just pain and the only thing it did was hurt.

Life was and always had been a cold, uncaring, heartless, sadistic bitch. And it always would be too.

The good never balanced out the bad and never would, people died for no reason other than it was just the nature of life.

Never any reason or rhyme to things, just a never ending symphony of tragedy and pain with no true reason or purpose to any of it.

It didn't matter who you where; life didn't give a shit, no matter how hard you tried to resist, it was a patient bastard that would never end; and no matter how hard you tried there was no way to win a game in which you where nothing but a piece on the board.

The lives people clung to so desperately where in truth both remarkably fleeting and fragile. Like glass, they could shatter into a thousand pieces with a well placed impact and most of the time they never even saw it coming.

Nothing lasted forever. Everyone died in the end. Of course that included her too.

Something she was only reminded of once again as she furiously scrubbed at her hands, eyes cold and vacant as the clear water which ran off her hands was tainted by red as it ran over her blood-stained hands.

How or when her time would come she didn't know. It wasn't something that kept her up either. It would come for her eventually, the past she fought so relentlessly to put behind her. No matter how far she ran; it was the one thing she could never escape.

Not when it was carved so deeply into her skin.

It was pointless to ever hope of escaping it.

She didn't deserve to anyway.

However, maybe, just maybe, if the world where feeling kind enough to grant her a mere slither of happiness once again, perhaps she would be able to come to terms with the bitter, cruel reality of it all again. Maybe she could be able to once again believe she wasn't entirely beyond hope. She could find a purpose in this World.

Laughter very nearly escaped from her throat. It was a ridiculous thought, nothing short of a miracle could save her. The world itself seemed to have it out for her, beating her back down any and every time she tried to stand up on her own.

She'd been doomed from the very start. No more than a toy solider in a game to be thrown away when she was no longer wanted, no longer useful, no longer willing to mindlessly obey.

It was simply her fate to die alone and bitter. There was no changing that, not anymore. Trying was pointless and would only bring her end faster. No matter how she tried to run or hide from it, that was just reality.

Washing the blood staining her hands-a task she'd performed a hundred times before to the point it wasn't something she thought about all that much any longer.

No, currently her mind was far more focused on the never-ending task of trying to shove down the haunting memories creeping through her mind, stealing away her breath, encouraging the relentless beating of her heart as she failed rather miserably.

 𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓼 • 𝒜𝓇𝓇ℴ𝓌Where stories live. Discover now