She strolls to the door with her head held high, chin up, eyes forward. 1, 2, 3, 4. With each step she takes, she can feel her bones crumble. This gentle pain, this gentle pain that has been with her for as long as she remembers. Why gentle, you ask? Well, you see.. She’s pretending, deceiving you, playing tricks with your mind. Can’t you see the plastered smile upon her face? Not extending to her eyes. No matter her efforts, she’s unable to express the words that have been attached to her throat for as long as she remembers. Her piercing green eyes, shrieking for help. She’s hollow. Can’t you hear the echoes of her screaming.