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“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”
Yes, my aesthetic was mental illness; no, I didn’t want to talk about it.
Great, I was being chased by a specter of the man I’d murdered. Normal girly things.
I was no man’s princess. However, I was a whore. Being a slut wasn’t a title, it was a lifestyle.
“You’re going to wish you were never born.” “Too late,”
“If you hurt me, I’ll kill each of you. Then I’ll kill myself before the tattoo can regenerate any of our lives. Don’t worry, I’ve come up with a plan on how to end myself. I’ll rip out my heart and feed it to some type of cute woodland animal.” She smiled. “Aw, imagine a little teacup pig ruling from the fae throne. That would be adorable.”
“And you think,” Scorpius scoffed, “that you could take down the three of us?” Arabella smirked like she had a secret. “Do you know how a fae becomes queen?”
“A fae ascends to the seat of death by ripping out the current ruler’s heart and eating it.”
“I ate my mother’s heart, and now I’m queen. She was centuries old and known to be mad with unfathomable power. It wasn’t planned out.” Her eyes were so dark they were black. “I did it because she’d wronged me and I wanted her to die in the most brutal way possible.”
“It was an uncontrollable fit of rage.” She turned to me, and the full weight of her empty gaze slammed into me. “It will happen again if you try to hurt me.” The words lingered like smoke. “We will all die,” she whispered. “I promise.”
She had her father’s anger. She was a worse version of him.
Me too queen
I broke my neck and died. The end. Story over. I wish.
“So you don’t have your period. You’re just being a bitch?” I punched him in the throat. Hard.
He deserves to be stabbed and gutted asshole
Never mind—death to all men.
“What type of misogynistic, close-minded jerk would hold the fact that you’re a girl against you? From what I’ve heard, you disguised yourself for a good fucking reason.”
If I had any self-esteem, it would have been crushed. Good thing I had none.
Sometimes a girl was just too tired to murder. My creative killing juices weren’t flowing. Yes, my depression was definitely impeding me from living my best life. I was aware. Just another thing to talk to Dr. Palmer about if I survived this realm.
Men thought they were so big and scary, but a gossiping woman was evil incarnate. They knew how to eviscerate a person with a few words. I aspired to be like them.
