There she was, sitting in the darkest corner of the room
Looking down at her brown patterned skirt
Studying the intricate details
The interwoven pyramids on the woollen fabric
Too old-fashioned to be worn by a 16 year old girl
She could stare like this for hours
As if that skirt she wore every day
Could give her the answers… clues
To her millions of doubts taking all the space in her brain
All the energy she just couldn’t get to use in another way
Drained
“you have an ugly nose” they said
“you are not smart enough” they claimed
“you’re boring and strange” they condemned
“You don’t belong here. Go away” they spitted back
Go away, away, away… an echo in her head!
She still was sitting on the same chair in the same dark corner,
This time she looked up, straight ahead to a mark on the wall,
Something was different; is it her eyes?
Yes, her eyes – her dark pupils suddenly wide, like bullets waiting to dart
Malicious – radiating sparks of hostility
And her mouth? Twisted in a nasty smirk
Her left cheek slightly pushed up by the half smile pasted on her face
Her fingers slightly bent as if to grip something tightly
Her feet tapping impatiently… suddenly uncontrollably
And she stands up, rooted in place … unsafe
Freed from her vulnerabilities, at least for a moment
“Not this time you bastards!” she shouts
A voice I did not recognize; is that hers?
Tormented … a mingle of words resurfacing
Flashbacks and pictures coming to life
This ignites a flame long lost
The fighter in her to get back her life
She spits on the ground … vindictive
Clenching her palms into a fist
A step… one more … another… and another…
“Not this time you bastards!”
