Soft pink blush rose quickly to her flawless, porcelein cheeks as the trees whispered compliments through the curtain of gentle curls that hung around her face, shielding her from evils that no longer exsisted, not in her sanctuary of soft pastels and glimmering moons. A gentle hand caressed her cheek, a pair of soft lips traced circles on the long, slim hand that lay by her side, nothing to defend, nothing to attack, surplus.
She sensed he was behind her, and the slow rythmn of purpose drew to an abrupt halt. It was then she realised she was merely inhaling by habit, no life was entering her light, floating body. She felt like she was flying, but the uncomfortable feeling of fear did not rest at the bottom of her stomach, instead a mild sense of freedom glided through her veins.
She heard the soft thud of his stick. It was muffled, as though she had pressed her ear to a wall, but it released a wave of relief over her body. He was her shephard, and he would waltz her around her haven, encasing her in safety. Wolves prowled around them, thirsty for her pain, but they could never penetrate the walls which he had built for her. Regret perched itself on the walls, not quite reaching her, but never out of sight. It's bulging middle drew the eyes of her shephard towards it, whilst Innocence looked on, trying desperately to summon the courage to help, Love and Loyalty fighting around him.
She turned from Regret, the forbidden fruit in her Eden, to face Knowledge, who seemed to taunt her every move, laugh at her uncertainty, torment her thoughts, thoughts which were suddenly becoming more vivid, more real. She started to stumble, the swaying,scintillating shoots retracting quickly into the hardening ground. The ethereal air grew heavy quickly and without warning, so her drowsy lungs were instantly overburdened with a mixture of long-forgotten gases, which encroached her mind, peircing the calm, hazy mist that lay there.
She seemed to swirl ferociously through the air, a quick glimpse of white, and of green, before she was thrown unceramoniously back to the place he had created, and she had adopted as her own. She let out a low, despairing moan, a sound she had been unable to make for the duration of her first stay, which seemed to be years, get minutes at the same time. A low rumble sounded behind her, signifying the fall of her protection. She spun around to witness the last of the walls crumble, and the scarlet glow of the wolves' cores advance towards her. For the first time since she'd ended, since she'd begun, she cried aloud.
She cried for him, she begged him to save her, to reclaim her as her own. The biggest wolf raised a knife-like claw, ready to pounce. It snarled, eying up its reward. She knew that this was it, this was her punishment for all she had done, she no longer fought it, but welcomed it, this was her time to go, she could not face reality any more, nor could she drift through fantasy, barely exsisting. The wolf snarled again, took a step backwards, and attacked.
She lay in a hospital bed, her face white, her soul black. The scratchy nylon irratated her wounded skin, her heavily bandaged wrists bled crimson as they lay absently by her side. The blue plastic chair beside the bed was empty, as always, and, as always, she wished. She wished for the haven; for her Shephard and the walls. She wished for the wolves, she wished for Regret and Innocence, but most of all, she wished she had suceeded.