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"Not okay," Lili said, struggling to keep Jasmine upright. Each passing second felt like it added another pound to Jasmine's corpse, weathering away Lili's strength. Eventually, she gave up, laying the body down on the bridge as carefully as she could. It might not be what Darius had wanted, but as far as Lili was concerned, it was the right thing to do. It shouldn't really matter what happens to her, right? She's dead, I'm not. Simple.

The blurry-faced girl made an awful sound as the bile from her stomach squeezed itself up and out of her throat. Lili turned and looked over; if there was anything to see, it'd be too blurry to recognize at this distance, but she wanted to make sure that the sound she heard was someone throwing up and not someone's throat gurgling out. Darius didn't really seem violent, but then again...

"We found her in the asylum," Lili said, walking over. Her shoulders still shook as they struggled to regain their strength. At this point, she didn't care if Darius tried to get her to shut up. He had been friendly to her, but to this blurry-faced girl, he was nothing but rude, rude, rude. If there was anyone who should be doing the talking, it was Lili. "Well, really, I was the one to find her. Her throat had been slit."

As she got closer, Lili could make out who the other girl was, but as for who they were, all that came back was a name. Natalie.

The first step to giving something human qualities was to give it a name. Her father told her that, about the kites that she had flown, a day or two after her favorite kite had gotten stuck in a tree and torn to shreds by the gnarled branches. Lili had named the kite Walter, and spent the rest of the day cooped up in her room with the broken pieces of the kite, silently staring out her window, wondering where kites went when they died. She was only nine years old. If you want to keep yourself from getting attached to your stuff, her father had said, then you don't give it a name. It's a thing, not a person. Inconsequential.

The shaking in her shoulders turned to barely noticeable nervous twitching in her tensed limbs.


No. There was no one named Natalie here.

Only a blurry-faced girl.
~~~~~ Creativity's Burning Pyre ~~~~~



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God in Three Persons · The Connecting Bridge