❝In which a celebrity dials a random number in hope of finding one last thing to make him smile before he commits suicide at the end of the month.❞
"I'm going to commit suicide in one months time."
"I think you have the wrong number."
"It can't be t...
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Kiara Linton was born to be a ruler.
It is a gift only etched onto the souls of a few of us; a gift as rare as royalty itself. That kind of power is unfathomable to anyone save for the rulers themselves. The surge of power that forces itself through a ruler's veins is permanent, never weakening and yet never strengthening either. The power enforces dominance and the need to have power over every living thing, be it person or object. It is the ruler's choice, however, to seize the power as a gift. It is the person wearing the crown of intimidation that decides whether or not to spread that gift as a curse or a blessing.
Anyone who looked upon Kiara Linton could easily see the crown engraved on her heart. It was in the invisible strings that kept her posture aiming to the skies. The surge of power was felt in her words. The words of a ruler: not to be listened to. To be obeyed. Her eyes held an everlasting pride.
Until now.
Anyone looked upon Kiara Linton could easily see the knife piercing her heart. It was in the invisible strings that had been cut, crumbling her posture to the ground. The void of sorrow was felt in her words. The words of a griever: not to be listened to. To be ignored. Her eyes held an everlasting pain.
All it had taken was a glance inside his top drawer to find them. To find the two objects that corroded the diamond guarding her heart. It seemed that he hadn't even attempted to hide it, somehow making the whole ideal a whole lot more disturbing.
She could feel the crown toppling off of her head, head feeling light and dizzy after the separation.
Two objects.
Her hands trembled as she held one of the objects in her hand, tears spilling out of her eyes at an alarming rate. Was it possible to drown in your own tears? If it was possible to choke on blood then surely drowning in tears could be achievable. Surely submerging your head in sorrows would cause enough heartbreak for death to come knocking at your door.
Two objects.
A gun.
She raised her hand, strained sobs erupting from her throat as she did so. Kiara wasn't entirely sure why her hand was shaking. As far as she could remember the brain controlled her body. If that was the case then what was causing her hand to shake? She never remembered asking it to do such a thing. Perhaps she wasn't as in control of her mind as she thought she had been.
Two objects.
A gun.
And Shane Caliente's suicide note.
Kiara held the gun up to her head, replacing her crown with something far more sinister.
