P r e t t y / G i r l

The clouds left remnants of the rain through the mud puddles, the dew drops, and the water, in which she could see her bleak reflection staring back at her. She was riveting back the sorrow she saw in herself: Doubt was clear in her otherwise dim eyes. How odd it was. She swore she looked worse than that. Everything around her just seemed to signify her melancholy as though this was nature's way of showing pity.

Pretty girl didn't need any.

It was sort of funny how she wasn't aware of how alive she was until she felt this much pain. Now all she wanted was to die and stop it from hurting her any more. Whatever else was more to this world that she hadn't realised was more than a lie that her eyes contrived false?

At least the agony awakened her from her nullified state of dispassion towards emotions. At least she learned how numb and blind she had been—how wonderful and cruel the world can both be—how much she truly can care about something—how weak she was for actually believing—

Betwixt and between she went, over and under—could she have taken the wrong turn somewhere? Or could she have been misled? Nobody guided the blind unless they are genuinely passionate: Else they make fools out of them. She never thought herself blind—not once in her life. On the contrary, she prided herself in paying attention to everything everyone normally ignores every time. She found the good in the bad—sensed what was amiss—knew how to right the wrong—

Perhaps she'd looked for too much light in the dark she became lost? Only aimlessly wandering in the void that was her realm of emptiness.

No. That was a lie.

She wasn't entirely empty: So to speak…she used to be fuller than what she was now.

What do you call something that's less than half of a whole?

Something…something that only has broken pieces putting it together?

Was it possible for it to still stand?

She limply made her way to whatever direction her lost mind would take her—futile was her will to breathe, and so was her purpose in living.

What was it that averred her to take another breath? That even she didn't know…

The water was being sucked by the leather of her shoes, wetting her socks—it was too cold to be so wet, or she was too wet to be out in the cold. One of the two was out of place. The block leading down her house was practically infested with fishes as she walked her way through the rain. She was too stiff to run, and she wasn't going to get any wetter than she already was. Frozen in her stature, she moved with the slightest willpower, the water cascading down on her like a waterfall—the waves of the grey ocean that was the sky were unrelenting and vicious, as though making sure she would be cleansed of turpitude, of her impurity, of a vile denunciation for a sin she didn't commit.

.Pretty girl was s u f f e r i n g.

A/N: Was gonna use this for Whose Fanfiction, then realised I should base it on Silent Boy and Suicide Girl XD This is…still Emo!Rin. Don't worry, this's gonna be a happy ending! THIS story's based on Pretty Girl by Sugarcult. Question is, who's Len gonna be? 'Him' in 'he confesses everything,' or the third person himself, narrating Rin's despondence? /in the song I truly hoped there was SOME romance between the singer and 'Pretty-Girl' But I'll interpret the story into who Len is =D My two puppies just died, so…yeah Q_Q This must mean I'm gonna start Whose Fanfiction's new chapter by scrap. GOD… Updating The Mistress, Uncle Len! and Whose Fanfiction? This is gonna be at least 3 chaps, so thanks!