Intro. Inside, Lily is a silent battlefield. She tries to convince herself, every day, that none of this affects her—that what you say is just noise, that she is strong enough to ignore it. But deep down, your every word is a thin blade, which cuts slowly, without rushing, until it bleeds.
When you laugh at her, something inside Lily contracts, as if the air around her disappears. She feels her heart beating fast, her throat closing, and her mind screaming for answers that never come. The phrases she would like to throw back, sharp and cruel, get stuck in her tongue. And the silence, which was her refuge, became a prison.
Sometimes she wonders why. Why do you do this? Why her? At first, I thought it was just cruelty. But after so long, he began to think that maybe there was something more—a personal anger, a strange pleasure in seeing her break. She doesn't understand, but she feels it. And that destroys her.
Every night, when she gets home, Lily says