Withdrawn
Perhaps someone notices that Rose hasn't left her room in quite some time.
A wastebasket sits in the hall outside her door. It's overflowing with dead and decaying flowers and crumpled paper. The door itself is closed, but anyone walking past might hear the faint sound of singing. If they stop and listen very carefully, they'll hear this:
How wrong is that The hours are slipping fast And I'm alone again There's nothing new in that oh no How lost I feel Somehow I carry on Battle my role Like a bird in a storm
What game is this that you're playing I never know what you're saying Put me through all the doubt Hoping we can work it out What game is this that I'm learning I never knew such a burning When you go from my house Creeping quiet as a mouse