Shattered

"Are you feeling alright, sweetheart? Do you need to go the Nurse's Office? You don't look like you're doing so good," he said, concern lacing his tone.

I forced myself to make eye contact, giving him a hollow smile, my eyes crinkling at the corners as the lie flowed naturally-instinctively- from my lips. "I'm fine, sir, just tired."

Of course I was tired. Who wouldn't be when their mind was constantly fighting against them?

As my eyes connected with his, I willed myself to open my mouth, to admit I wasn't alright, that I was as far from alright as I could be. I wanted the help- I really did- but something held me back. Instead of confessing, I smiled a little wider, a little brighter, and simply repeated, "I'm fine."

+-+-+

The abuse causes depression.

The depression causes anxiety.

The anxiety causes isolation.

The isolation fuels the depression.

It's hard to be yourself when you don't know who you are. Sang would know. She's been wearing the mask for years, putting it on without trying, then forgetting to take it off. It's been so long she doesn't know who she is anymore. What would Sang do, she asks herself, her eyes connecting with her reflection's as she strained to see past the mask. What would I do?

Every night is a battle, the days raging wars, all the while Sang Sorenson is held prisoner in her own body, forced to watch the time pass, alone in her resistance. But she's getting tired.

Tired of resisting.

Tired of trying.

Tired of breathing.

Her smiles only hold back her desperate cries, her laughter the thundering of her fists against the steel bars caging her in. She's desperate for someone to see her. She's terrified for someone to see her.

Guess what? They see her.

(Rated mature for the following; strong language, abuse, eating disorders, self-harm, thoughts/conversations about suicide, possible suicide attempts, and mentions of rape)