How many times must I fall flat to the earth before something in my life turns out for good? How many mistakes must I make, how many tears must I cry, how many times must I kick myself until I lay upon the earth seeping blood? Every time I let my heart cry to someone other than itself it only gets kicked again, and so it only shrinks away from any hand, any heart, any love. I have said that I will trust and obey more and more each day, but I can't stand, I only cry and shrink. Is every man out for blood? How many times must I fall before I learn to walk? Oh my dear God, I can't love anymore, oh my dear God, I can't live anymore. I want to sob into a pair of arms, I want to be held secure while I sleep, knowing that nothing can harm me and nothing will try to take away the little I have left. My heart feels a hollow shell of pain, my life feels like an empty disaster, and every time I feel like I could not possibly feel more pain I find my face smeared in mud. And the dreams of my childhood return, where everyone meant to harm, and every place I went was to escape something I was running from. The woods were dark and deep and so very cold. Every pack of wolves bounded to snap at my feet as I ran, and every tall form meant only to strangle the air from my lungs. Every pair of hands reached for my throat, and every path that I was lead down went straight up a cliff until the person I followed turned and threw me to my death. My eyes would dart into the shadows and see pairs of eyes following me, and if they didn't find me, they would drive me insane until all I could do was lay down and die--eyes wide open with fear. It paralyzes me, this fear, and my eyes hold nothing but pain and tears masked by a sheen of indifference. Why do I feel so alone in a house full of people? Why do I feel so abused and used when no hands have touched me? Why do so many enemies lurk in my mind, why do so many words knock me to my knees, my face, until my stomach lurches within me and I struggle each day to eat? I close my eyes for the day has turned dark, but inside my eyes are eyes watching me, and waiting--I know not for what, I know not why they stay, can't they see that I'm too empty for them to steal anything else away?
The faint scent of smoke reached Llenora's nose, and she struggled to pull her mind back to consciousness. Her arms felt heavy as lead and her body grew wet and clammy with heat, but still she could not awake. The struggle was too hard--it was easier to just fall asleep. Somewhere deep inside was screaming at her, but the words were garbled, and then, slowly a deep apathy settled upon her mind. She cared not, what ere may come, all was already lost.
