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BLOOD.
There was blood on the pale water. There was blood on her. A trail of blood. The moon couldn't help but to feel pessimistic. It was pure melancholy. And she would shed tears over nothing. Instead of the acrylic paint stained on her hands, it was stained with blood. Well, someone on the other side of the door was violently bamging on the door.
"Rhiannon, i know you're in there. Let's talk it out please." the helpless tone in the voice. But what did really Rhiannon do that resulted her to be stained with blood? It was such a dangerous situation to be in. She was drowning, she was helpless, she couldn't save herself from her own.
The door finally opened. Rhiannon couldn't hear what they were saying but is it too late for her? She couldn't save herself but someone did. Someone important to her. She changed ever since summer. A blooming art deco.
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