Once upon a time, there was a girl, and she had this remarkable talent. She could play with demons, and she could play pretty well. She knew their hiding places, every nook and cranny. Because she grew up among those monsters. They were inside her, rotting her being.
She carried the weight of so many dead worlds , dragging them around like skeletons wherever she went. Shackles, whose grip she could never be free of. Her body was a battlefield , her mind a chaos of lifeless constellations. But what people most oftenly remarked were her eyes : it was as if they were the remnants of a mirror, always reflecting , but never letting anyone to see behind. Therefore, everybody just supposed there was nothing but a void underneath her glare. They ran from her, ran from the truth that restrained her, that bound all of them to a life of misery.
Humans did this to me. You did this to me. You broke me.
She suppressed every glimpse of emotion., just so the demons couldn’t reach her. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel either. So she laid in a state of bittersweet numbness, growing more and more estranged of herself.
But, against all odds, she survived.