Her forlorn face darkened the candlelit room by emanating a repulsive grey. She sat by the window in the cold, musky attic, which appeared to whisper and groan at each slight movemnet she made; even the smallest intake of air through her tiny lungs echoed back at her through the old floorboards.
She had her head buried on her knees, her arms blanketing her wispy, long honey blond hair, barely awake to the world outside of her prison. The icy and violent wind blew through the small seeps of the old, large window, she felt it creep through her stained dressing gown and its seductive touch caress her neck, causing her to shiver in its monstrous