A story about love, despair, and chaos, told in fragments. Her screams echoed inside the glass coffin. I heard them. She scratched her fingernails bloody on the hard case that kept her inside. I felt the blood trickle down my own hands. She pounded with all the strength and power left in her fragile body. Bruises sprang up on my own knuckles. I wanted to hold her hand, warm like it used to be. It is cold and hard now. Skin frozen and curled like leather. She wanted out. I wanted in. The day everything went perfect was the day she died. Her name was Theodora, and I loved her. But to love her is death.
41 parts