Made on: 9th of June 2021
Published: 22nd of June 2021
this is surprisingly not a vent chapter, it's literally just me wanting to make you guys sad :D
Dream is a girl in this one, and a princess.
CONTENT WARNING FOR THE CHAPTER:
implied sexism, suicide.
dream watched in amazement as she weighed the blade in her hand, dancing it around in her soft palm for a little show only for her eyes.
this was the night. the night where she dies, the last chapter of the book that she wrote.
wasn't it weird? the fact was she was only fourteen, yet wanted to end her life.
the life that she was graced? the life that sounds luxurious but is horrid?
she's heard peasants in the market wishing that they were in her place, longing to be in the castle and so high up on the respect scale.
she wished that she gave them one last cackle in their face before she was gone.
the night was cold, almost as cold as her unconscious body, but it was perfect.
the maids and chefs had all gone to sleep.
she had spent weeks memorizing the guard's schedules so she knew that right now, all that they were guarding were the outside.
where she wasn't
it seemed so enticing but at the same time so scary, ending her life.
she tested the words in her head, on her tongue, even muttered it in the late of night.
she could end everything really.
all her 'proper lady' classes, her mom watching her like an eagle while she eats, the books she was supposed to read about her posture.
the more things she laid out in her head, the more enticing the idea of death became.
pointing at her, the sharp tip of the knife was pointed at her chest, sharp and ready to puncture her clothes as well as her chest.
she never knew why, but her breasts were always something that she hated.
all the other girls were fine with theirs, but her? she wanted to cut them off.
and she was finally given the chance.
she remembered the times that she would watch the boys from her balcony.
she often wondered if she wanted to be with the boys, or if she wanted to be the boys.
she wanted to be able to run without the weight on her chest, the ruffles of her dress in the way.
she wanted to be able to do whatever and say whatever.
but she couldn't, because she's a girl.
and girls don't do that.
for some fucking reason
"death of dream marilyn, the famous princess"
she spat out the last word like it was poison, and to her it was.
"slash!"
she had done it.
the knife had been fully injected into her chest.
blood trickled down and stained her undergarment which she wore.
her mother had always loved this pair.
a last 'fuck you' to her if you will.
Word Count: 500