To escape her constant solitude, Aurora seeks attention and affections from boys who smirk the right way, despite being degraded for it. Amidst it all, she sort of, accidentally, falls in love...Ok so I completely rushed this IM SORRY. I wrote it for the John Green competition and literally posted it at one minute to midnight, punctual as ever. But here it is. I hope you can still make some sense out of it. Credit for the chapter titles go to Marina & the Diamonds, whose Electra Heart character inspired me a lot :)


4. IV. I got dark only to shine


A couple of nights later, a maid finds her passed out in her own bathtub, and it’s a wonder she didn’t drown right there and then, a curse, even, that she’d have to lie entrapped in stiff hospital sheets and promise the doctors she doesn’t have a problem, it was a one off, honestly. Her tongue tastes like it’s speckled with black afterwards, but whatever.

Abel throws his arm around her shoulder upon her return, chatting about how promising this summer looks, what with the miracle spots of sunshine here and there. He walks her to her room, ensuring she has everything she needs, reminding her of the great spa downstairs.

‘Thanks, Abel, but I’m fine, I’m just going to catch up on Bones.’

‘I’ll leave you to it then, but really, don’t hesitate to ring me for anything,’ he nods, ‘oh! And here, this is for you, someone dropped it off for you the other day.’

He hands her a parcel wrapped up in brown paper,  before bidding adieu and retreating back down the hallway. She stares at the package. She knows who it’s from, of course she knows. But her insides are slick with dread as fragments of her last memories with him return to her.

She rips it open. The quicker it’s over with, the better.

A journal. A journal with a wrinkled spine and coffee-spattered pages, busting with writings, his writings. It’s not a journal, but his holy book; his blessing and his law. She loses herself in the verses, tales of royalty and solitude and martyrdom. And her, she realises, pages upon pages of her. The outs and innards of her. The things he knew were better to write down than to say. It feels like crucifixion. 

And something floods her lungs, and it’s not bath oils this time, it’s – it’s light, it’s golden, it’s cloudless skies and the root of the universe. She can’t supress it, she grabs the nearest pen and paper she can find. She’s no poet, not like he is, but her heart pours on the page like spilt ink and she thinks it’ll be enough, he’ll understand.

'I fell in love the way you fall asleep: Slowly, and then all at once.’

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