Feeling so inept so immovable; she is questioning what was ever the point? A reoccurring sequence of little voices inside her head; they are whispering to her so gently of all her greatest fears. Her motionless crawl toward the door consumes her strength inside, before she even got the chance to steal it back from his clenched fists. Her inability is overpowering, it stands over her like he does with those eyes full of abhorrence and antagonism. She is sitting in the darkest corner of the bedroom, curled up hidden behind their chest of draws, full of his clothing; it stenches of his impossibly accepting scent. She finds serenity in the wall she is banging her head against. She is screaming out for help, begging for something to lift her soul up, but these four walls have no answers. And she would give anything for silence. She can hear him screaming to himself, like those voices inside her head, she is broken down and trying to find a way out, a way out of her own head.
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