• If there was ever a time she needed a friend, it was back then. A shoulder to cry on. A strong hand to pull her onward. A smiling face to give her hope and comfort. But she had had nothing. She was alone in the darkness of a world she had created of her own selfishness. Within those black depths, her desperate screams could not be heard. Her tears fell unnoticed. She drowned in her own sorrows.

    Dark shadows lurked just beyond her vision, grating on her sanity. She listened to their jeers and snarls. Her heart stopped when one brushed casually by her when she was not looking. The fragileness of her mind was strained, pulled thin, ready to shatter. Only the hope of salvation kept her from going crazy.

    And that only lasted for a short while.

    I do not know from what she was running; only that she was terrified of it. Listening to her ramble on in her half-crazed speech drove me to pity, but I could not be persuaded to lend a helping hand. The horror in her eyes as she stared down the black creatures that tormented her struck fear into my own heart. She seemed to me to be the very beasts she claimed to be fleeing.

    To watch her was like watching a horror movie without the CG monster: You could not really tell what she was gaping at; you just knew there was supposed to be something there. Sometimes she would run across the room and claw desperately at the wall, looking over her shoulder and opening her mouth in a silent cry. She would not let anyone touch her, driving even more people from her company. It was almost unbearable to monitor her from the other side of that glass window at times.

    Especially when her eyes settled on me and filled with frightened tears.

    When she pointed a bloody finger at me.

    When she mouthed wordless curses.

    When she saw a monster in me.

    When I was too scared to help her.