silvia staite {four} fin

STAITE

Luck lives one life, before it dies forever.

Jonah Staite: the name that makes our bones glow with hope. Rusted joints oiled up and frowns manipulated into smiles --two single words allow for us to believe that the impossible is possible. All that glitters is not gold however, and when a crown is placed on your head, a dead man walking is expected to deliver.

And did he?

Of course not. Inevitably, shame rained down like blood from a wound. A once perfect family made brittle by a silver lining, cracks starting to appear from the porcelain family tree until eventually the strain is too much and we all fall down. It didn't start with Daria, bloodshed was written into our story long before she took her world by storm. We are chaos personified: murder and kidnap, thorns with no rose; a true state of a family built on the bones of the already broken.

They still dream, as if nightmares aren't diseasing their fantasies. I remember sitting on the knee of my grandfather, him whispering sickly sweet words into my ear which drove poison into my heart. Ancestors feeding me their remnants of broken wishes and dreams like I was hungry for the heartache, but in reality I was just as hurt as them.

Just as hurt as them. A true Staite: a mess, brown hair with wide eyes. Yet different -- thin and skeletal, frail like paper and silk. Easy to tear and rip and break and crumble.

There's so much pressure built upon these cracking bones that I lose my sanity in the wounds. Expected to be strong but truly weak. Training to become a clone of the undying; is this really what I want?

I am to be my own legacy. An antagonist in a world of manipulated villains.