Livid bruises and dried tongues retch on her appetite, gasping, gagging, blurring her senses. Lead fills her lungs and regret sits on her chest. Her anger is her own, empty days a waste,
her fault.
She is a victim of her emotions.
New sores dig into her, stabbing her head,
razor-thin.
Her heart reminds her she still has time, take it easy, it's not that bad, but she's on a pedestal and they don't care, they want a result, they want an answer that means something.