Self Loathed
(Lana)
I was back in my room. It was twelve o'clock at night, and I had just gotten out of the bath that the maids had prepared for me.
I sat on my queen-sized bed, the darkness of the room engulfing me, depicting the abyss that swirled inside of me like an endless whirlpool. The only light in the room came in through the cameo balcony's open doors.
A gentle wind blew through the curtains, which waved softly like sail flags on the sea.
To the unknowing onlookers, it appeared to be a peaceful night.
That was not the case for me. I was depressed; depressed more than ever at this point.
Scenes from everything that had happened up to this point flashed before my eyes, flowing through my mind like movie clips. Time moved slowly, and I was the only one who was still alive.
Or perhaps I was dead; a ghost roaming within lively walls, where creatures of the night in the form of people wove through the corridors of some grand-looking castle.