Sorry if you feel that I'm writing too much emotional stuff, but I just wanted to accomplish something and get this inspiration out of my head. Again, I forewarn you that it will be very heavy on the spirits. A continuation on the previous writing, if you haven't guessed, the character is Tsuyura. Tsuruna is her elder step-sister.

I actually never meant it to be Tsuyura, but it just sprang out, so I guess I'm sticking to it.

You'll notice a few hits of suicide in between the lines also, but no worries, it was a spur on the moment thing so I didn't really consider replacing it with something less crude.

Enjoy, I suppose :)

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Somewhere along the line, she had forgotten how to cry.

Her white dress was stained now, the material grey and black with ink, her hands were tipped with it, the marks where it had run, trickled down her hands her wrists, like tears.

Somewhere along the line, she had forgotten what it felt like to cry.

Tsuruna had screamed at her, telling her she was sick, pathetic. That she was a coward, a loser, a freak. Back then she had cried and cried at the words... But now, the black ink covered it with a fine black mask.

Somewhere along the line, she had forgotten why she ever cried.

Resolve can harden, as can determination. But hate strengthens and grows, feeding on the cracks in her firm composure where the ink could not heal. Where her mask could not cover. Where her exterior was so deadeningly flawed.

Somewhere along the line...

A long time had passed, she forgotten many things. Tsuruna, her parents, the maids, him, all were fleeting shadows. Nothing existed for her anymore, there was no reason to be living in the world when it was empty. No... She lived for herself... did she? Or did she live on her hate? Never mind, never mind, it did not matter anymore. Never more.

... maybe she had forgotten afterall...

The cobwebs on the ceiling fluttered in the slight breeze, the dust shifting on the surfaces. The stained torn cloth of what had once been an innocent summer dress rippled too. Her orange locks sighed as the wind blew past them, carressing the now ashen cheeks.


Somewhere along the line, she had forgotten how it was like to feel anymore.