Nothing That He Tells Her
Is Really Having An Effect

He Whispers That He Loves Her
{{But She's Probably Only Looks For...}}



Some days, girls like this don't have much business to attend to. Well... nights rather. This girl is a creature of it. She hardly ever left her home in the day, unless she absolutely had to. It made sense if someone understood what the sun did to her. Not burn her skin. That was nothing compared to what happened to her when that blindfold was removed. She felt a sick feeling run through her at the thought. Nothing is more frightening than the thought of losing what she rarely had. Her sight. It was like losing your grandmother you hardly get to see. People always say you don't know what you've got until it's gone, but with your grandmother, you know you have it. Once it's gone...

It's like putting salt in your wounds. So painful. So sad. She was sitting on top of a brick wall built to line up down the streets. It was a cold night. One leg hung down the side, and the other sat up with the rest of her body. She was laying across the top, playing with hair that hung down. The wall was pretty high up for any human who passed by. It would be difficult to see how she even climbed up there. Then, something crossed her mind. A lot of memories did come and go.

Circe remembered the time a hand moved to hold her own. The time when something looked at her like she was existant. Like she was alive. She rarely had friends. She had one lover. Maybe. The rest were just satisfaction. Circe was the slaughter. That was why she never got love. She was the slaughter of every lamb she ever met. She was the hunter of deer. The conquerer of lands. The storm of ships. The predator of prey. Circe knew it, as well. She was the taste of the reason boys live, and the reason girls choke up. She was... disgusting.

A sigh fell out very heavily. Nothing worse than being alone on top of a brick wall in the basic redlight district of Russia. It was alright. She couldn't really "see" if she was alone or not, so it was all the same to her. Being alone never seemed to change. Voices seemed generic to her. She never knew if it was them, or if maybe she had really been going crazy. Damn. That was how long she had been on this world. It was insane. She wish someone would just talk to her. That seemed like it was very unlikely, however. Circe didn't get a lot of conversations. Nobody talks to slutty blind chicks.

Her cello case was standing up against the wall underneath her. Circe remembered the time she had played her cello before she knew anything about it. It was taught to her, by the very same who held her hand. The very one who kissed her and said he loved her. Nothing lasts forever, though. No reason to get hurt about it. Everyone should know what they're getting into when they fall in love. Decision making is more important than love. Circe laughed. "Love is only a feeling."