Every choice of hers is filtered through two people. One scared, the other raging. A fury that has followed her into the princess' castle she used to see in every dream. A castle now decimated; the dreams now nightmares, a side effect of her mother's medication. When every word was meant to say, "I don't love you". And when every syllable was a memory she wishes she could forget. Her mother's screams turning her insides into stone, and adding gravity to her step.

She is heavy.

Was this what her mother always wanted? When she held her, brushed her hair?

When she made her cry the first time. And every time since.