Words are funny things.
Their meaning, the pictures they paint in the minds of those that hear
them: they’re not always the same and to me at least, that makes them
Take for instance the phrase ‘black widow’. Those words conjure the
image of a spider, an eight-legged creature with the red imprint of an
hourglass on its abdomen.
However, instead of speaking of an arachnid, of the resident of a
spindly and dew-laden web, the people who whisper those words are
talking about something much different.
They’re talking about me.
From what I’m told, I’m called the Black Widow because no man I’ve ever
loved has survived.
Yet, I have no memory of any of it.
My new home leads me to the definition of another vague and meaningless
It’s a place where I’m supposed to seek refuge.
A place of retreat and security.
It’s a place where I’m supposed to be kept safe because I’m sick.
But the definition for this place is wrong and the word becomes
meaningless when you’re tucked away and made silent by drugs and pretty
My name is Alexandra Sutton and this is the story of what happened when I
was imprisoned inside an Asylum.
Lily White is a dark writer who likes to dabble on the taboo side of eroticism. Most of the time she can be found wandering around aimlessly while her mind is stuck in some twisted power play between two characters in her head. You may recognize her in public by the confused expression, random mumbling, and occasional giggle while thinking up a scene. Lily's favorite things in life are reading, thinking about reading, buying books for reading....and writing. Her other secret pleasure is meeting with her plot editor in public to discuss her books and watching the shocked expressions of the people around her that don't realize she's talking about a book. When Lily is not reading, writing, wandering or freaking out innocent bystanders, she's sleeping.