Prompt: The morning after she died.
It was the day after she died.
She was gone. Dead. Deceased. No more. Shuffled up to mortal coil. She was an ex-person.
And Alexa was going to have to keep her Monty Python gags to herself.
She had hated Liberty. She had bullied her, made her feel worthless, had even made her self harm, before. Alexa would have never done or said anything to go against Liberty, in fear that the abuse would become physical.
It was almost odd, now that she was gone. It was if a weight had been lifted, and another had been placed on her. She curled up in her bed, and sighed.
No more bullying. No more mental abuse.
But she was dead. A person was dead. Was she happy?
Of course not. But she was relieved. What an awful feeling.