Exalted

Hushed, barely disguised rumours followed her as she walked, her bare ankles bruised and her face a mask of unbridled fierce anger. Hazel eyes narrowed in concentration, she marched, her navy blue skirt swishing around her knees, her nails raw and sharp, a glimmering pearl. 

Her cheeks, whitewashed with tear tracks. Her nose held high, sharp and pale, in complete contrast to her broken demeanour. 

She paid no heed to the whispers, angrily wiping away all signs of discomfort away. Whispering broke out once more, frustrated at her inattention towards their displeasure. Their minds held a trace of admiration for her composure, but she didn’t notice, too lost in the whirling flurry of her thoughts. 

She wouldn’t do this to herself anymore. She marched towards him. She thought of crayons and their bright colours, shunning those bleak irises away, bringing a slight sheen of the original sparkle to her beautiful gaze. 

He gulped. His collar a fistful in her palm, her knife at his throat. And slowly, slowly, she forgave him. Swiftly turned on her heel and walked out, and she didn’t look behind. Smirked, yes, for she knew, even without looking, that her problems had disappeared.