Her throat seizes as those vivid and miserable memories flood into her consciousness; her two clear windows gathering all the dreary lighting the room as the downpour carried on.

  She could not breath.

  She could not speak.

  She couldn't respond to the fact that she had warped what her guardian angels had previously screamed at her, hollering: she was not worthy; she was not good enough; she was never going to be considered their daughter from this point.

  However, they never screamed, yelled, nor even raise their voices above a whisper.

  There was no sensation that hung like a human pendulum, swaying in the mist of the morning, yet somehow; it seemed so much more terrifying.

  And she did not allow herself to scream, to pout, or feel the need to vomit all her pent-up feelings into that same plaster, pearl-white seat, for her throat silenced her.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It was hard admitting to failure after failure of her immaturity, her angels spreading their wings as they soared into the crystal sapphire skies.

  It was hard, thinking that she really was at fault- that she wasn't a victim- that maybe she was just a drama queen.

  And maybe those were times she had somehow hallucinated and conjured due to her own dissatisfaction and disappointment building up towering turrets and brick walls of a castle of delusion.

  And maybe those were the times she allowed her lizard-brain to commence its shut-down, a tsunami ready to swallow the reasonable control panel of her body.

  Maybe they didn't mean that she wasn't their daughter anymore.

  Maybe they didn't mean all those times they hit her: bruises, blood, guts, bones; a beautiful woven tapestry displayed in a hospital.

  But maybe he and her were both at fault, for the girl never thought about what her guardian angels though about, only her misery that settled into a downpour.

  And so, the girl stayed silent.

  Maybe some things in life aren't just worth pursuing, for there will always be some faint yellow and purple ribbon placed around your neck, for there will always be this shadow creeping into your ears, for there will always be angels watching, a constant reminder of what you once were.

  But the girl never stayed silent for them; she stayed silent for when you aren't strong enough to keep living, the world tells you the most important advice.