She always had a room for herself where it was pitch dark. The blackness filled the void for her. She never spoke out to people, she had shrieks of fear. She thought she would become a throwaway. She could lean, she could walk, she could say but somehow she was different. She thought of exfoliating her skin, in the wake of becoming fake but that was unacceptable too. She had dreams of walking through the door, the alley, and off the bridge. Was it the denouement?
Deep in the arms of her fear was a door that opened to an unknown luminosity. She never how to survive until she kissed the demons out of her dreams.
It was funny but it seemed beautiful.