꧁ Cʀᴏᴏᴋs: Bᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ Bʟᴏᴏᴅ ꧂

9. Oɴᴄᴇ Uᴘᴏɴ ᴀ Tʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ

Back when I was locked up, I developed the hobby of writing to keep me sane. I would get the journals and pencils from the commissary, no one wanted them anyways, and I would jot down stories to myself. Nothing elaborate, just something to keep myself busy and distract myself from the life I had been living.

I was going through some of my belongings and I found an old notepad from when I was back in juvenile. I don't remember taking it with me, which is the odd part. But, either way, it inspired me to try writing again. Maybe I would enjoy it out of a cell as much as I did in one. So, I grabbed a blank sheet of paper, a pen, and started writing whatever came to mind.

Well, I didn't get far before Bonnie came barging into my room, making herself comfortable in the corner. Does this woman not have anywhere better to be? She's always conveniently in my bedroom whenever I am. It's annoying, I can't just get one second alone without her being all up in my business. Speaking of which, she examined me for a moment, curious as to what I was up to.

She snatched the paper out of my hand with a smirk on her face. "What's all this, a love letter to your boy crush?"

I quickly retrieved the paper back from her stubby little hands, which caused a slight tear in the corner. "No... I'm just writing a story for fun. Don't you have somewhere better to be?"

She pressed her back up against the wall, folding her arms. "A story?"

"Yeah... what about it?"

"I know a couple of good stories, if you want inspiration."

"Yeah? What do you know about stories? You're some short middle aged woman who won't leave me alone, I'd love to hear it ." I dismissed.

She frowned at the comment. "I'm 20. No need to be so disdainful, I'm just offering."

I thought about it for a second. I guess she is just offering, I might as well try to be respectful. Mom told me to be nice to her, which is starting to become more of a challenge each time she talks to me. But, you know what, I'll listen. I'll be nice.

"Fine, let's hear it then."

⧫ ⧫

"There once lived a small village in the fields named Geestenstad. It was a fairly quiet and simple village that kept to themselves. Hardly any drama or hellfire occurred. There were some small markets and establishments, accompanied by a main church everyone generally attended and cozy houses. The town was so miniscule, you practically knew everybody's name and where their house was in the neighborhood. All was well, as far as everyone knew.

There lived a girl whom they called Lilith, although nobody seemed to know her true name. In every village, there is a quiet and mysterious wanderer who everyone questions. That was her. Although everybody had their own speculations and thoughts about her, they all kept their theories to themselves. It wasn't that they were necessarily afraid of her, rather what she was capable of. Nobody knew what truly lies behind her innocent stature and frame, so nobody dared to test it.

She hardly spoke, and when she did, her voice was chilling and stern. People bantered that she had the face of an angel but the voice of a devil. Her tone was unsettling to the townsfolk, and so nobody approached her. She was deemed unapproachable."

Cynthia perked up with interest. "Was she aware that this was her reputation? I mean, I would hate to be in her position- hated by everyone."

"She was well aware, and she didn't care. She purposely built this persona for herself, and she was okay with it. And, she was not hated by everyone, I never said that. People were skeptical about her and her whereabouts, but no one hated her. At least, not yet.