No one could get to her. She had built up walls with no windows or doors. Every time you thought you were close she would slam an icy door in your face. But we all knew what was wrong. We could see it in her eyes. She was scared. She would slowly warm up, then she would have flashbacks. She would remember what had happened before. And she would lock herself away, far from anyone’s reach. She called it safety. Her friends called it loneliness. She called it healthy. Her friends disagreed. She called it protection. Her friends called it destruction. They tried to bring her back, but she was worse than any time before. She locked them out too. She was nothing more than just an empty shell, moving from place to place. Her blue eyes were empty and lifeless. Her smile was nonexistent. Her laugh hadn’t been heard in months. She didn’t wear makeup anymore. The tear tracks that stained her face were evidence of her pain. Her friends told each other it would take time. They said she would come back around just like the times before. Then she stopped going to school. After school her friends rushed to her house. Her mother was distraught. All her stuff was gone, she had run and not left anything. She had only left one thing behind; a wristband from her first dance. Her friends knelt down and cried together. One pulled out her phone and they all looked at the texts again. They made so much sense now. But now was too late. She was gone.

And she never came back.