No one can tell her anything. No one can. She's the only one who stands for her friends. She's the only one who's there for the ones who need her. But... who's there for her? They hate her. She's just 18. She's alone in this world. And stuck inside this big family, this big family with no people. No one to talk with, no one to be with. She lives inside her tiny room, alone. She sleeps with a ghost, a ghost of loneliness that hunts her since she can even remember. Everyone left, everyone leaves. People just walk away, 'cause they can't stand the fact that she's alone with a lot of people, that she's not selfish, that she's not the centre of her world. They care about the racists, the assassins, but they don't care about her. She just hears other talking about their selves, but who listens to her? Who lends their shoulders when she cries? Who gives her an advice when she asks for it, when she needs it?

By C.