viola snowspire / d10

She sits at her desk, another Snowspire snoring away a few feet from her, pen hovering above a fresh page in her journal. It's late, maybe one or one-thirty in the morning, and she has a class first thing so there's no making up the sleep.

But she can't shake this feeling, guilt that she's not used to feeling now gnawing at her insides.

So, there's much to write, much to work out through putting ink to paper like she's prone to do, so Viola can read back her thoughts and analyze them. It's not like she could ever talk to anyone, so this was how she learned. To process. To progress. But her brain has been working faster than normal, though.

She's already worked out a solution to the looming problem.

She just doesn't like it.

Not one bit.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She writes that first line quick. Accusatory. Angry. Hostile. It's a new sensation, this accountability.

How could I do that to him? Again? 

She feels tears threatening in the corners of her eyes, but she inhales deeply and swallows the emotion. Like she always does. She's just never had to try so hard to keep it down before. It's never been a problem! Viola is of a singular purpose: to serve herself. No one else. So why the fuck does she give a shit all the sudden about the feelings of someone else? How the hell did that happen?

How the hell did this happen?

She knows exactly how it happened. Viola did what she always does - whatever the hell she wants. Whatever feels good. Whatever makes her happy. Whatever. Whenever. And that's the problem. 

I can't even imagine how he'll look at me when he finds out. 

He'll hate her, of course. Like everyone else she's scorned in similar ways. Not as bad, obviously. This is by far the worst she's done. She deserves it, though. Wouldn't you agree? Of course you do.

Because nobody likes a cheater. 

It can't ever happen again. 

It will. 

I'm a piece of shit. 

We know.