The end

Three years later.

The first sign of dawn appeared, the calmness and loneliness around the house near the mountain started to fade away as the few birds started to chirp cheerfully.

In an upstairs room, the light was still on, the light which her mum had switched on last night. Silently, the door opened and her mother appeared, a sad smile on her lips. She breathed out a distress then switched off the light to close the door behind her, with a sigh again. She didn't go and disturb her daughter as it was now a usual habit to see her like this every morning, not on her bed but by her table with the diary opened in front of her.

For the past three years, no one knew what happened to her during that holiday. She kept on telling them that she couldn't remember, but deep inside, her mother knew that something hurtful had occurred and that each and every night, her daughter's blood turned into ink, writing out the words she couldn't speak aloud.

In the room, a broken woman has fallen asleep