She sat up on the peak of one of the rooftops, relishing in this pass-time that in just a couple of months, she'd never be able to do again. It was bittersweet as she stared down at the market, watching people come and go. The knowledge that, if she decided to keep the child, then the day she could no longer move well enough in pregnancy, would mark the official end of all of her climbing and watching and running, haunting her. This life, her childish, but blissful life would die.
She held her crude dagger in her hand, as she'd been idly twirling it. It caught the light and she glanced down, green-gold eyes reflecting in it, and for a moment... for a moment she'd not intended, she considered ending herself then and there. It startled her, shook her to her core; she'd never thought those ideas would slip into her mind. She brushed off the fancy.
After all, her life wasn't so terrible. She was poor, but not broke. Tired, but not dead. Lonely, but not completely alone.
But gods was she lonely, and gods was she scared. She'd never admit it; never a soul would hear her fears, or see her tremble. It had always been that way, and always would be.
She wanted to turn back time; to go back to her easy, carefree life of getting drunk and flirting and dancing. But she knew that wasn't possible; she'd chosen this path, to some extent, and now she had to walk it.
