She knows not what she wants. She knows not what she does. She’ll love those who allow themselves to be cocooned in her sexually spun webs. Never will she love those little flies more, though, than her own wants and desires. Never will her suitors own her heart fully while she swims freely in a twisted sea of lust and self-indulgence. She is damaged, her wings broken, and she will create more in her image like a black plague enveloping those who would mend her fractured heart.