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“I close my eyes, gripping the empty clothes closer to me, shaking my head against the truth. I try to block out the words... Try to stop them... But they come, nonetheless, until finally I just stand here—not running, not even trying to escape. “You my dear, will suffer seven years of tribulation. You will be left behind...” — Willowy Whisper
I close my eyes, gripping the empty clothes closer to me, shaking my head against the truth.
I try to block out the words...
Try to stop them...
But they come, nonetheless, until finally I just stand here—not running, not even trying to escape. “You my dear, will suffer seven years of tribulation. You will be left behind...