piper moreau, district one | fin [cb]

the moreau name used to be an envied one.

and now that's all that it is—a name. the ruins of a once golden legacy. just a story of how a dynasty that once stood so tall, and so proud, toppled because of one man's greed. looking back on it, it's funny how fragile it really was.

you were once an envied girl.

the name piper moreau was once scribbled on love letters, surrounded by little red hearts tucked into her desk before she was even in the room. to everyone you were something shiny and new, gleaming like the diamonds on the rings that are wrapped at the base of your fingertips.

when you started to grow up, nothing really changed, you always found a way to make yourself the shiny, new thing that no one could take their eyes off of. it was addictive—the attention, and you learned to chase it. you were always a shiny, new thing because you never knew to be anything else.

but once your family's pristine and glamorous legacy crumbled beneath your feet, you were no longer that girl you grew used to being.

your desk was empty, except for the books and stray, crumbled pieces of paper, and when they stared it was no longer for the right reasons.

no one showed up when you had to bury your father, after he was laid on the white table at the morgue with six bullet holes in his chest. and no one cried when you were taken away by peacekeepers for a crime you didn't commit.

it's funny how all the pretty things are the most fragile.