Her dark curly hair fluttered in the breeze as she looked at her reflection in her dagger. Only sixteen and she longed for death to claim her. She longed for the dark rider that came to her only in her dreams. She longed to feel his touch, to feel his icy hands caress her cheeks, and his long thin fingers through her hair.
Her dark prince would claim her, but when? She dreaded each hour that passed as she waited for him. She now doubted that he would come for her. She hated the doubt that flooded her soul like a broken dam. She hated not knowing. Every night she prayed for the strength to call out to him, but every night she would stand by her window silently. He knew of her, and she was sure of that. Maybe he was waiting for her to call him. Maybe he would not come to her until she did. Many days and nights passed in this fashion until the world grew too much for her. One moonless night as she stood on the balcony of her room looking at her reflection in her dagger she saw him. Just a shadow of him, but it was him. He had come for her. All she had to do was take the final step. She ran the blade across her wrist and let herself fall from the ledge calling his name before her body smashed into the pavement below.