My wings dripped with soggy mud, and my previously lovely chignon was just a mess of curls.

The pins stuck themselves into my shoulders as their placing went awry, and I pocketed them in the muddy remains of my rose petal gown.

“Why?” I asked myself, and let the tears drip onto my soiled hands. “What did I ever do?”

My wings weren’t shimmering any longer; they turned dull, reflecting my mood as I sat in the sloppy mire outside my former home.

“I’ll get her!” I pledged, digging my well groomed hands into the grime before me and grinding it between my thin fingers. “I’ll come back one day, and Quella will wish she’d never said anything!“

I stood, trying to get the torn scraps of my ego and dignity together, and hobbled off, looking like a witch with a hump on her back.

Rain started pattering down, washing me slightly at first, and then smashed all around me; the only sound audible was the pounding of blood in my ears.

Where do I go now?