I sit on a broken throne. Shadows dance across my vision. My hands tremble. The world unravels before me as I gaze over the foundations of ruin that are my kingdom. I turn my head to stare at the letter written to me by the mother who allowed me to be the destruction of everything.

_I know you hate me._

_I know your heart has shattered._

_I know that your position as queen has changed you._

_I know my silence hurt._

_And I am sorry._

_My dear, sweet, ten year old child, _

_I am sorry._

__

_I know the assassin shook you._

_I know this world jarred you,_

_And I am sorry,_

_That I ever allowed you to be taken into a world of politics and pain. _

_Your two year-long term is over,_

_And I hope you’ll come home._

_And forgive me._

__

_From,_

_Your mother, who bleeds for you every day you’re gone._

__

__

My scrawny arms sway by my sides. She doesn’t understand the shattered world I have created. I am a monster of destruction only I can see. They said that children would fix the world, right the wrongs that adults made. They expected imagination and forgiveness, and instead they got tyranny.

Why would someone give power to a child, one who isn’t old enough to even spell correctly? Why would they give power to someone who screams when someone trips on the blanket they wear like a cape. Why would they give power to a child who doesn’t fully grasp morality yet?

And why, would they let me keep this fractured crown of glass I wear, after all the terrible things I’ve done and seen?