For 100 days, I was a stand-in, doing things I hated. Trapped in the mire, how was I supposed to escape? I seemed to live a glamorous life, but had long since become someone else's plaything. Was I the plaything or the one in control? Who handed me the knife? Who was pulling the strings? Was it me? If you set a trap, I'll redraw the whole game. The tallest tower has a single step; the devil always has a way to top it. Who will write the ending? Everything is still unknown. Whoever laughs last wins.
