While she was alive, nobody really knew exactly who she was. And nobody really cared. However, once she was dead all of her secrets flooded out of her coffin, only for the world to wonder who she actually was. Secrets were her oxygen. She breathed in secrets, and turn them all into lies. Yes, she could take any deep dark secret and turn it into a really good lie. But the truth was was a place in which she never went.

She never touched the truth, fearing that it would come back and make her regret it. She distorts the truth in the most truthful ways, that you are left with not a single thought in your head. The truth was her poison. She knew that the real truth would leave her on the ground, gagging for air, with nobody interested in helping her. The real truth was a killer, chasing her with a gun. And she told lies like she would tell her killer knock-knock jokes, to make her live a few seconds longer.

But her poison didn’t stop. It spread. It spread broadly and rapidly, covering up every lie she has ever told, leaving her desperately searching for more lies to cover up the truth with. But nobody can cover up the truth. No mortal soul can withstand the devastating results of the truth. It’s like an avalanche. It doesn’t stop. And the truth kept destroying every single lie of hers, until there was no “her” to defend her infinite lies anymore.