Behind The Mask
I pulled out Aria’s journal again, tracing the edges of the worn pages before continuing.
Her words carried a weight that pressed against me as I read: anger simmering, resentment blooming in ink. She wrote of a ‘dark world’ again and again, as if it weren’t metaphorical, but something tangible, something she truly believed in.
‘The dark evil world took my mother,’ one entry read.
I paused, confused, unsettled. What did she mean? Was this grief twisting her mind, or was there something more, something hidden beneath her polished exterior?
Beneath all her poise, Aria was a frightened girl, drowning in fears I couldn’t fully unravel. Her pages revealed not power, but yearning for affection, fo