The cracks have started to show...
She cannot bare the violence anymore...not even the noise that comes with it...
She's completely cracked up...Jagged edges have started to show up...the frustration, uncertainty, her own violent reaction to that voice ringing in her head...that voice testing her patience, testing her strength to hold her own. The voice that belonged to her own mother...It pursued her in utter disappointment that she had not grown insane with its constant ringing, and banging in her head. The one woman she respected utmost, loved and cared for, the one woman in her life for whom she had kept herself alive...was the one who wanted her to be utterly helpless, a lifeless robot, an insane mound of clay to be moulded by the woman the way she wanted.
She thought of rebirth...going back to those days when everything and anything was looked at with awe and wonder...the days of learning and listening and observing.
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