— Such an Unfortunate Child.

In amidst of the whole audience, looking at the only person on stage. A girl who stood there happily infront of the crowd, as they cheered for her as she carries on the show.

The girl named Anastasia— sang, danced and played the main role of the play on stage. They admired her swift moves and her voice, as she sways her limbs gracefully, twirling around as her soft and calm vocals echoed through the whole stage — to the whole crowd who were watching her in awe.

She continues to dance, her vocals slightly changing into a devastating tone before stopping in the middle of the stage. She slowly closes her eyes before sucking the air to her lungs before she continues to sing with her eyes closed.

She danced along with the beautiful and aching melody that she was playing, a tone became more devastating yet at the same time — a quite calm and soothing.

She fell to her knees, consuming the very last quickened adrenaline rushing through her veins before she slowly flutters her eyes open.

An imagination.

Imagining herself being on stage as folks watches her from a distance. Performing the most acts of the main character of a certain play.

It was all her imagination.

She weakly lays on the floor, hopeless and devastated to have thought of such an impossible dream.

A goal that she couldn't reach.

Why?

Because she's not normal.

She just imagines herself laying on the floor in a living room.

Yes— that was all in her head.

Such imagination damaged her.

She sat on the floor before leaning back to the wall.

The place didn't have alot of furniture.
Just a bed, a bedside table, a sink and a table for one person.

You know where?

... The place for unstable people like her.

Asylum? You can say that.
Because it is true.
Or maybe it's not.

A white room filled with those certain things.

Was it her fault that she was here?

You can also say that.
Or not.

A bell dings before someone placed a plate with a single bread on the table. They left shortly after, not minding the poor, utterly worthless child.

You're right. You heard that right.

She's a child.
A thirteen year old child.

She didn't care nor mind to even eat anymore since it's the same food they kept offering her.

Who gets full anyway by just eating a single bread?

She's quite frail, and pale.

She sulks just at the corner of the white room, her silver hair was slightly a mess for going crazy for a moment, her eyes puffy because of crying and sobbing. Her throat was also dry.

I guess she deserves it?

Who knows?

Maybe she did deserve it.

To be here after what happened.

she lets herself fall to the floor before balling her eyes out.

But let's say— she's crying like a broken child.
Yet it was strange— because, she was crying quietly.

In the end— everything that just happened were all just a dream.

Or not?

Oh well, who cares anyway?

Since she's already dead.