75 Days
This world is simply beyond repair.
Felicia sniffs, and I glance at her. She's only fourteen years old and barely five feet tall. Her hair is short, feathery, and a dark cinnamon color. Her face is round and still slightly babyish, but months of little food and constant fear have given her a gaunt, hollowed-out look. Her honey-colored eyes are sad, but hopeful. She honestly believes that everything will be ok in the end so long as we keep faith, which she still miraculously somehow has. A small golden cross hangs around her throat on a thin chain, and she tends to play with it when she gets nervous.
Hot Chapters