An ache

She’d been gradually hollowed out by a lifetime of abuse and overmedication. At some point some romantic teenager may have seen a girl whom he could save from her situation, but the world does not work that way. It indiscriminately inflicts atrocities upon the weak and defenceless. And the real horror isn’t in a cataclysm that shakes your innards, but in the decades that follow. The horror is in the daily attrition between circumstance and sanity.
So she was left a husk, someone that found solace in some memories she perpetually lived inside of. She had a highlight reel to inhabit. It was pristine, perfect, but so savagely warped by the existential cancer she had developed through the abuse, day in, day out.
She was only a living memory, and it was agony to remember her as she used to be – happy, sober, and conscious of what was really going on around her.


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