『 fifteen, end of pt i : NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN. 』

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『 CHAPTER xv, end of act i: NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN

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CHAPTER xv, end of act i: NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN.  』

THE SLEEPING BLONDE AWAKENS FROM HER deathlike sleep that recovered her from the gruesome looking bruises that littered her olive skin

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THE SLEEPING BLONDE AWAKENS FROM HER
deathlike sleep that recovered her from the gruesome looking bruises that littered her olive skin. She gasps for air as if her lungs weren't doing their job during her little snooze. So the blonde thinks it's a little snooze. The pain is such a sharp reminder, the memory of it hurts more than what her body does currently. Her body doesn't hurt at all and the once gruesome bruises that attached themselves to her like a walking reminder she was just moments from death, had seemingly vanished just like said pain. All she can see at first is the ends of her thick lashes, the dim lighting of whatever room she's in helps her to focus a bit — but not much. She looks down at what she's wearing, a hospital gown with several accessories in forms of IV's stuck in her arms and an oxygen tank right beside her that had been untouched for days, the girl quickly getting wind that she must've not have been able to breathe on her own for a while. June Swan almost died. The realization has her electric blue irises burning with unshed tears, the realness of it all causing her to tell herself, and you always said you wanted to die? June didn't want to die like that, fighting for her life. At the hands of a monster – she much preferred her grandmothers way, her heart in her hands with the sun and moon in the sky at the same time with the ground glittering with diamonds.

June finds her vision darting to the window where she can hear the faint patter of the rainfall form outside. Rain, she mused.

Like a trial, she slowly removes the covers from her. The chilly air hits her baking skin in a way that might've caused the faintest of hisses. June stays sitting for a moment before she hesitantly gets her legs to dangle on the side of the bed. As if ripping off a bandage, she steps onto the icy floor of the hospital floor. She takes step after step, like an infant would. Once she knows she's not in pain, she walks easier and more sure until she's looking straight in the mirror. The first thing that she takes from it is that she looks fine. Perfect. She looks like herself, the girl mixed with eternal love and reckless courage and a big heart. June. The girl that wanted to (and still does) die.

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