Torn.
That's what her clothes, and facial expression looked like.
Pain.
That's what her body, and eyes held.
Hurt.
Physically, and emotionally; she seemed almost destroyed.
Broken.
Broken.
Broken.
That's exactly what perfectly described me at such a point.
A broken woman. A woman whose eyes lacked their light and liveliness.
She was crying silently.
Tears left painful paths behind them as they traced her bruised cheeks.
Empty. She seemed like she was slowly drowning into thoughts of nothingness.
It was as if her inner consciousness was rejecting
all what had befallen on her in the past few days.
There are two types of people in this world: those who use, and those who are used. Stepping stones are the latter ones.'
'You are my stepping stones this time.'
