Fake Death.

Thunder and lighting busied above the basement, creating a somewhat eerie ambiance in the house. The wooden roof and flooring creaked, settling with every drop of salty rain. A rough deep brown coffin sat in a freshly carved shelf lining the stone room, closed and locked tightly.

The teenager lay dressed in the finest fabrics for a commoner, her hair resting still against her collarbone. Her eyelashes were curtaining her closed eyes, her face occupied with light but noticeable makeup. Her hands were modestly folded together at her stomach, creepily still.

As a bolt of lightning struck and a blast of thunder shook the building, as an eye opened in the tight box. The girl's hands clasped a groove in the wood, her head lifting forward only to bump against the wood. She immediately began to catch her breath, her mind racing with thoughts causing an excruciating headache. She grumbled, before beginning to kick and punch at the box. After a few tries, it opened - broken. She fumbled out, smacking against the cold stone with a sigh of relief after being trapped in the claustrophobic coffin.

She sat up on her knees, rubbing her forehead with her manicured hand. There was only one thought now escalating in her mind.

She was alive, and she always was. She faked her death, and now she was emotionally born again.