She looked in the mirror and mumbled strings
of thought together, however incoherent they might be. A frail,
greying figure looked back, too young to have looked the way
she did, and she knew it.
She saw the haunted look in her eyes, the
veins etching themselves like tattoos under her skin. She saw a
shell of her former self. They colorless body stood almost
still in the mirror, the only movement coming from her chest
when she breathed in shallow breaths, like the task had become
too painful for her to bear.
The boy stood behind her, horrified.
"I am a shell," she spoke
The boy said nothing.
"I am afraid," she whispered
"Of what?" He questioned back. His
voice was strong, clear, assertive. Her voice was raspy, weak,
"Myself," she stated in a bland tone
before collpasing to the floor.