The Black Rose
NOIR
TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE
It was by far the worst day of the year for me, after Christmas, that is.
September 30th.
My birth anniversary.
The one day where I couldn't suppress every thing no matter how fucking hard I tried to.
My room was exactly where I needed it to be—one floor below the main apartment, deep in the belly of the mansion where the weight of stone and earth pressed down from above. I preferred it this way, especially on days like today when the memories threatened to drag me under completely.
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