Alone, she sat there, in a corner holding onto her knife as if all hope was gone. Quiet sobs break the silence of the dark room. She couldn’t take life anymore; everything she had no longer existed. She no longer has anyone to hold onto. Her broken life couldn’t be fixed. She waited, wondering if anyone cared enough about her, to help her, to rescue her, to save her life; what seemed to be decades of time, were only minutes; still no one came. 1

“Not every princess becomes a queen right,” she thought to herself. “It’s time,” she whispered as the clock stroked midnight. And with the knife she held hopelessly, she ended her shameful life.