A tiny form was wedged in the corner near a shattered wall, barely breathing. Her eyes were open but not seeing. Her world in front of her had long fallen away, like a mist over pieces of shattered glass.
It was late at night, the kind where the silence did not quiet but was hollow.
But in this room, night did not have a beginning or an end.
It just stayed, like it didn't want to go anywhere.
The room held nothing—no bed, no blankets, not even the simplest comforts. Just splintered wood and the scent of neglect.
Just a wooden floor, a girl with a broken body wrapped around the wall, and broken plates and cups scattered everywhere around her.
Right in the middle—her.
Her arms were clasped around her legs.
Her bones stuck out like rusty piano keys. She had no clue what her hair was like anymore. It was crusted with dirt and dried blood. Her eyes once had life in them—now they were hollow.
And maybe that was for the best.
She had not wept in years.
Or maybe she never had.
Even sounds had abandoned her.
No one to hear, no reason to make them.
There was no laughter, no heat in the room.
Only silence. That silence that is more deafening than words.
A painting still on the wall—one she had painted years ago.
Two stick figures and a baby in between, all smiling.
But now, that baby lay slumped beneath it.
She could hear the door crash open.
Clumsy footsteps.
A man's voice, shattered glass:
"You missed dinner again?
What, you want another beating?"
He hit her fast.
She didn't flinch.
Why should she?
Her body was used to this.
The pain came and went like an old, familiar ghost—taking everything else with it.
He screamed.
Walked out. The door slammed again. Gone.
Quiet returned, like an old friend.
She put her fingers on her lips and wiped the blood off on her arm.
She looked over at the mirror on the other side of the room.
The face in the mirror wasn't a girl.
It was only an empty shape. Something that time had forgotten.
She had been asking the same question for years:
"Why me?
"
But this night, a new one emerged:
"Why keep going?
"
And there was no reply.
Because she wasn't there anymore. Not really.
She went to the fridge.
It was never used. With the sole exception in the freezer.
A knife.
Not hidden. Just. waiting.
She reached for it. No hesitation.
She pressed it to her chest.
The pressure mounted slowly. The pain searing. But inside—there was release.
For the first time in an eternity. she felt alive.
Her knees gave. She fell to the floor.
Head against cold wall.
Breathing slowing.
She looked up.
No angels. No lights.
Only cracks on the ceiling.
Her lips parted again.
"Perhaps… elsewhere… it starts all over."
Her eyes shut.
Heartbeat broke apart.
Then—blackness.