A dark room. Pitch black. A spotlight blisteringly beams.

She stood in the midst of the spotlight, in the middle of the room. A shell of a human. What a shell of a human…

Scared and without sight. The spotlight goes out and though she is without sight she can feel the difference.

It is drafty. It is quiet. It is loud – with white noise.

A gut-wrenching scream pierces the depth of the silence as she clutches her right side, beads of sweat form upon her temples, and the feeling of liquid pours within her hands. Thicker than water, warmer than room temp…she knows.

One single click echoes throughout the room, she can feel the heat cascading onto her from above. The spotlight is back on shining brightly upon her, but not for long as the light slowly dims to the darkness that she’s once felt. The draft returns as if it has a rightful place upon her skin. Her pain is immense and her fear is real. She wants to run, yet fear of the unknown keeps her still. She feels as though what’s happening and what’s to come she can withstand.

A crucial blow pierces her chest as she simultaneously places her foot forward. So intense that it knocks her to the cold cement floor. The air escapes her lungs and mouth, unclenching her wounded rib cage she clutches her chest. She comes in contact with a cold metal object propelling from the core of her. She wants to yell for help, scream in agony, in hopes that someone will hear her and remove this dagger from her chest. She musters the energy to try to rise. She knows she has to make a run for it, no one was coming to her rescue anytime soon.

And as soon as she was upright, she felt the heat. The spotlight. A torn feeling fell upon her. When the heat of the spotlight graced her flesh she knew…she knew she was safe from the inflictions of pain…she knew too, it would only be momentarily. So with one hand to her chest, securing the position of the dagger and the other clutching her broken and exposed rib cage, she ran. The spotlight flows and follows as she ran…10 feet…she struggles…an additional 6 feet…she pushes…26 more feet.

She ran but the absence of the spotlight stopped her in her tracks and then almost immediately she heard another echoing click. She exuded excitement with the thought that it was the sound of the reappearing spotlight granting her a chance to flee but what brought her from her fantasy was the lack of heat felt and the presence of the cold floor and her left knee connecting. Her body crashed to the ground she had no additional hands to tend to her broken limb. There she lie. The pain numbing her. She was exposed.

The vultures caused damage to the frame of her soul…the core of her spirit. They took away her ability to run away from her brokenness. And her sight…in this moment that was not something taken from her, fore that was something she was born without…raised without. She never had the ability to see a positive model on how the components of the soul should be cherished.

Motionless. Alone. She lies there, figuring it out. Eternally, the spotlight is on


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