Silence crept through suit 48A. The regal hotel room was completely and utterly hushed, as if it was holding its breath. Not a phone rang, not a clock ticked, not even a heart beated. But honey, you'd be a fool to think it was empty.
In the 2nd room of the lofty suite stood a woman, tall and regal and very ticked off. She examined herself very carefully in front of a long full length mirror, unsatisfied.
She was beautiful, from her dark glossy crown to her small olive feet tucked away in glossy high heels. She was lovely from her marble like skin to her honey eyes, that had most literally captivated thousands. One could go on describing her pretty little features, yet it would be in vain. It wasn't a secret to anyone, not even herself, and it wasn't causing her dissatisfaction.
Her problem was that she was nervous, a feeling she hadn't felt for very long. If she recalled correctly, it had nearly been a century. The feeling sickened her, threatening the high pedestal that she had always placed herself on. No matter how many hearts she captured nothing erased the burn of past betrayal. She was afraid again like she was so long ago and this frustrated her beyond belief. She hated feeling like that little girl again, so trusting, so in love, so wrong.
That girl had taken her last breath a thousand years ago. The last thing she had ever felt was the burning of her lungs as they demanded oxygen and the brutality of his hands. The feeling of her kicking hopelessly in the water. She momentarily re-lived the panic.
And now, after nearly a thousand years, she was finally going home.