She was one and a half years old when they said she came into existence to procure grandeur.

She was seven when her teacher proclaimed that her sincerity is going to bring prestige to her family.

She was to celebrate her eleventh birthday in a month when her parents were called from school to pick her up, she had locked herself in the washroom .
"such a bright student, she is, I wonder what keeps her so quite and reserved", the dean of studies regretfully, hands her parents the leave pass.

She was thirteen when he first demanded her of what she was oblivious about, all she could hear was, "if you help me, I will always love you, but if you refuse, I will kill myself" , so she didn't utter a word, maybe this is what it feels like to be adored by someone other than her mother. She despised every bit of it.

She had lived another 35 days helping him every night now, she found she had a passion for art. At 2:07 a.m., she would gather her astoundingly efficacious brushes, the blades, her canvas had scars from what she had painted yesterday, so she rolls over the other sleeve, a new canvas today, she smiles.

She was fifteen, when her friends came to bid goodbye, she was finally leaving her hometown, she was finally getting away from him. She didn't paint that day, she cried.

She was sixteen when she had her heart broken for the first time, "he is ashamed of my paintings", she kept reciting. She wanted to fly that day, but her parents cut her wings and locked her away from the world she belonged in.

She was celebrating her 18th birthday, with the one faithful friend who never left her side, alcohol, she had flunked her exams again. As she blasted the speakers with "the river flows in you" she turned the water in her bath, red, she tiptoed around, dancing, "I am magical" she whispers.

She was 21 when she was getting ready for her fifth job interview, he promised more ink for he likes the words she regurgitated along the food she had for dinner the night before.

She was walking briskly 240 seconds later when she heard a loud wallop, for an unostentious amount of time, she could see nothing, finally she turns around. A sudden relief flows in her veins except the blood she hadn't let out for 253 days now.
Somebody died, she thinks to herself. She pushes past the crowd as if she was invisible.
She gazes at the beauteous cadaver is taken to a hospital.

But she was camouflaged, for now, she is finally there where she belonged. For now, she wouldn't have to drown herself in tears of repungance from dusk to dawn. For now, she doesn't exist, like she was never born.

s.m//