Sometimes Philippa thought she saw Violet. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Violet crackling and breaking away.
And Violet would call out her name. All the time. As if this wereherfault.
As ifshewere to blame.
But Philippa knew better. She knew that Violet was the monster, not her.
Yet she couldn’t help feeling responsible. It was her curse. To put herself down. Demonize herself.
One day, Philippa would stop. One day, she would realize just how special she was. How lovely she was.
Until then, she had a lot of loving herself to catch up to.
*I will not show Gacha Club photos.If you read my "Clown under the bed!" stories, then you would know what the characters look like.
Merci pour la lecture!
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