It was the same morning as any other for her. Closed blinds allowed no light to enter the unknown room, entrapping it in complete darkness. Cold air flowed in from the vents scattered across her room as she snuggled deeply into the blanket's warmth, for it was the only warmth she had felt for years. On her bed, small piles of clothes and wrappers fell onto the floor with her every move, connecting with the other heaps of clothes on the floor that filled her room, similar to an aquarium, where she was the lone fish that entertained its captive.

Time passed slowly as she awoke, intoxicating herself with the strong smell of marijuana that always lingered in her room.

She slowly opened her eyes as her dark, sea-like irises gazed upon her dirty room. Although much could not be seen from the darkness that enveloped the room.

Sitting up from her bed, she moved her heavy blankets away as the warmth slowly left them from the ever-intrusive assault of the cold breeze.

On her covers that gripped onto her mattress, multiple deep, dark blood stains could be seen dispersed from each other. However, they weren’t recent; the bloodstains looked old and faded out, more than likely from multiple rounds in a washer as it attempted to wash away the past mistakes. Yet, no matter how much she washed it, they still remained, serving as a reminder and message to her.

With her left hand, she slowly placed it on top of one of the multiple bloodstains before picking it up and staring at her bandaged wrist. Under the bandages, years of everlasting torture riddled her wrist with never-ending scars that would always remain.

She forcefully averted her gaze from it as she calmed down, cold sweat drying off her forehead. She stood up and walked out of the room hurriedly, her mind spinning heavily.

Outside her room, she walked down a hallway with multiple dusty family portraits before turning left and entering a bathroom. Inside, she vomited into the toilet, feeding it her insides.

For seconds, she continuously vomited, all before she had emptied her stomach, leaving nothing to feed the toilet with.

She stood next to the toilet before collapsing, sitting there for seconds before she stood up, flushed the toilet, and washed her hands diligently.

Then, she stepped out of the bathroom and continued traversing the hallway before she found herself in a warped living room connected with the dining room and kitchen, all dirty.

Various clothes and other miscellaneous items made themselves at home in her living room, becoming a part of the family.

Everything was disorganized to the point where one could not even imagine how it once was.

Not bothered by any of it, she continued to walk before sitting on the couch, filled with clothes and light trash.

There, she sat and nodded off, nearly falling asleep before hearing her rumbling stomach.

It was only natural; after all, she bird-fed the toilet all she ate, leaving none for herself. This was a weekly occurrence that would happen often. It had gone on for so long that her father stopped caring, only buying extra food to replenish what she lost. Because of this, she was unbelievably skinny, her appearance like that of a skeleton covered with skin. The loungewear she was wearing was large on her body because of this. She wore a baggy t-shirt coupled with shorts that sat slightly above the knee.

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For days, she would only wear clothes similar to these, as she remained inside for multiple days. She had only left that one day because of an argument she had with her father. It was only a coincidence that she met Francisco, a very minimal one, and it was unlikely they would meet again.

The only thing she remembers about Francisco now is his dark brown eyes, which reminded her of her previous boyfriend.

The person she had believed to be the love of her life. Which, in reality, became only fleeting memories that she would dream of every night if she slept at all.

But it was during those dreams that she was the most happy. All she wished for was to be with him once again, but he left her years ago. All because of her growing addiction. And for who she was currently, it was unlikely he would want to be with her, let alone see her again. She was now unrecognizable to who she once was, both in the physical sense and mental.

Her rumbling stomach continued to cry as her instincts pounded her head, yelling for her to eat. Yet she had no appetite to eat. However, her instincts eventually ruled over her as she stood and walked into the dirty, unorganized kitchen, making something to eat.

Her father was currently away working, so she was left alone, needing to fend for herself.

Which was a stupid decision. Left to her own devices, who knew if she would even make it through the day? But her father had enough. It had been years of this constant behavior with no improvement. Because of this, he broke off other relationships to care for her.

At this point, though, he had enough. Now, he only wishes for her to be out of his life. Even though it was cruel, he still wanted the best for her, so he is sending her away. He was hoping and praying that they could make her better. For he could do nothing except witness her become even more broken.

Maybe, at least now, she can become better. An actual functioning human was his hope; however, he did not have much of it left.

He worked and worked to the point of death, for nothing to improve within her as she clung to memories.

She walked towards the dining room table and sat down. She then placed the bowl of cereal she had prepared down and slowly shoved mouthfuls of it into her mouth. Without it, she would most definitely faint. So, even though she had no appetite, she still ate. If only to stay alive one more second.

She also clung to hope. She wholeheartedly hoped to be with him again. That was what kept her alive now. But who knew how much longer that could keep her in the physical world? With every passing day, she lost more and more of that hope. It was only a matter of time before it left her.