The world I was raised in had been sun and flowers, it had been breezes through open windows and smiles from the boy next door. It had been crushes, it had been stolen kisses.
And then it wasn’t.
Then it was darkness, then it was screams.
Then it became a world in which fighting was required, and life was an unknown luxury.
It became survival.
That’s what I do.
I run from the Tar, I run from those I had hoped would be my allies.
All through the dark. The poisonous dark as I seek the life that has been taken from me, praying I will find it.
Praying that it won’t devour me before its too late.