A/N: Week 19!

The theatre is empty.

It always is at this time of night. Outside, she can hear the buzz of the city, alight with music, loud chatter and the growl of car engines. But in here, it’s quiet. It’s peaceful, like nothing can touch her.

Nothing can reach her, not the wind, not the people, not the cars, nothing, here, sitting in this seat, staring up at the dimly lit stage, candles burning out in their holders, she’s safe.

It has been a long time since she’s felt safe. Too long, perhaps she never was. The plushy chair hugs her and she wishes it would swallow her up. She can almost hear the sound of footsteps on the stage, as an act unfolds, the sound of Shakespeare’s Macbeth bursting off the wooden steps and into her sight.

But that’s gone.

It’s faded with time, dreary and old. Those pages, those plays that she had clung onto seem useless now. Their words, their soft and heartbreaking words, such elegant prose, seems like a dream away, lost in the past, tainted with blood.

Nothing can take her back. Nothing can solve the problems she has now, the lies she’s told and the horrors she’s seen.

Forever ruined by life and numbed to pain, she sits and listens. Listens to the past, the crowd and the smiles, letting them consume her like a tidal wave of memories, for they are the only things that keep her sane.


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