I threw myself to the wolves

MELITA

The silence was deafening; heartbreak suddenly alive and well in her chest. Perhaps this was the answer she feared facing: that even Ludo could see she was a menace, a cretin, a fiend,. They couldn’t be bothered to see her. They couldn’t be bothered to address her. They couldn’t be bothered to speak to her. Something within her broke a little, piece by piece, nudged in the direction of fissures and devastation, and her hands swept over her eyes, striving desperately not to cry. But the tears came nonetheless, rapid and descending, her frame curled up beside the shrine, under the dark canopies, Fangorn reaching for her, just as hopeless, just as torn. “This isn’t what I wanted,” she uttered between despondent, aching sobs, releasing all the tension, all the self-hatred, all the despair she’d managed to hold up inside herself for so long (be strong, be strong, be strong a manifestation, an echo, but it had nowhere to go now). “I’m sorry,” was all she could say, all she could do, all she could offer when the feathers and stones weren’t touched, when she was worthless, meaningless.

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun