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It's dreadfully quiet there. She feels like she's floating, light as she feather, nothing holding her down from the depths of peace. Finally free: dead, her mind supplies. It's dreadfully quiet here, it's never quiet at home.
There's always screaming, or smashing, or sobbing. It's never this quiet, not even when she sleeps. Not anymore, she's learnt to sleep lightly. På wasn't happy the last time she slept off her exhaustion.
It's never this quiet, she can't hear anything.
It's not like this unless they've hurt her until her ears ring and her eyes shut and she falls into an abyss, it's like this one. Usually, though, she can feel. Dread and pain don't race at her fingertips, just calm. It's nerve wracking, which is an odd paradox in and of itself. Though, it doesn't matter at all- or does it. She can't decide, it's like everything has become meaningless, suddenly, but she still has attachment.
Is this how Atsu feels? Is this how he lives? It must be terrible, horrid, to feel this much detachment from something that you know you're supposed to care for. Something you love, and yet you cannot find yourself to love it.
She ignores it. Not important, but then, what is? That's right, nothing is important, nothing at all.
But then, who is she? Wasn't she on a hospital bed moments before?
