Her surroundings were covered by a layer of fog. Everything was hazy, and there were no colors, no shapes, only shadows flickering along with the cold moonlight streaming in from the window of her room.
For a long, long time, Oriana stared at the empty space in front of her, unmoving, unblinking, her breathing shallow, with only the sturdy door against her back keeping her on her feet. Faint sounds of sobbing reached her ears, and it took her several seconds to understand that those sounds were coming out from her own mouth.
Oriana was crying.
She did not even realize when she began crying.
Her hazel eyes, usually filled with youthful laughter and mischief, were now streaming with tears of sorrow and confusion. Her delicate face was framed by her long, tangled wet mess of hair, its disheveled state mirroring the disarray of her emotions.
