“It was not me.” she justified, eyes flooded by tears.

Frightened and distressed, she turned to her mother, who was lying motionless on the floor, colour drained from her plumped lips. Slowly, her trembling blood covered hand s up her mother’s torso until her fingers brushed against the kitchen knife that had taken refuge in the toned stomach.

“Luna only gets straight A’s because she sleeps around with male teachers.” they would say. She had had enough of the rumours, those dagger-like words that pierced through her heart. The whole world could have accused her of such a thing, but she was able to brush it off, as long as her mother believed her words.

However, her mother didn’t.

As Luna wrenched the knife from her mother’s stomach, she softly pressed her lips against the woman’s forehead.

“They forced me,” she whispered, “I didn’t have a choice.”