(Paige’s POV)Stillness follows her voice, cutting through leaves like something broken shut.Parts of you that exist in different forms.A chill grips the air, out of nowhere. The jasmine’s perfume clings too tight, thick enough to choke on. She studies me, head leaning slightly, as if I were some cracked artifact dug up from ancient dust. Her gaze holds nothing soft. Just a quiet hunger, sharp and still, older than seasons.Out of nowhere, my voice arrives - battered, thin. “You’re not thinking straight.”“Am I?” She smiles, a small, pitying thing. “You’re the one who lives inside a borrowed skin, reading from a script you think you changed. Tell me, Paige - or Sandra, if you prefer - did you really believe you were the first to try?”Up from the bench I rise, legs unsteady. Reaching the wall matters now. Thoughts thick, blurred by time alone, by dread - still, a picture forms. A story once read. Beatrice, small, afraid. Water rising inside a frozen room.“You’ve been editing the st
Huling Na-update : 2026-01-10 Magbasa pa