9

Sienna’s POV

It took a while before I moved from the bed.

This room was too quiet, too empty… but it was the only place where I could breathe without feeling like a broken doll constantly being shattered.

I turned on the desk lamp and sat down at my writing desk. I took a deep breath and reached for my laptop. The screen lit up, casting a pale blue reflection on my face. I opened a new document, my fingers still trembling.

I stared at the blank screen for a moment.

What did I want to write tonight? About a woman who keeps trying to love, even when all she receives is rejection? Or a mother who tries to understand her child but is never understood in return? Or… about wounds no one can see—wounds that slowly devour the soul?

My fingers began to move. Letter by letter, the screen filled with words. Chaotic. Imperfect. But they were exactly what my mind held tonight. Sentences flowing from wounds too full to contain.

[She sat in the dark. Silence curled beside her like an old fri