The train pulled into the station, making hardly any sound, sleek and smooth. The platform was nearly empty, but for one girl and the armed soldiers around her.
The girl might have appeared as another soldier from afar, wearing the same uniform as them, but up close you could see the obvious differences. This girl's long hair flew wildly in the breeze, her stance was bored, not military-straight, and she flicked a penknife casually open and closed, the way you might tap your fingers, or twirl your hair. This girl was something untamed. Or, she had been.
Because if you cared enough to look closer still, you could see her haunted eyes. Not haunted in the ghostly sense, but in the sense that something had lived there once, and every so often you could see a flicker of it there, before it was gone and her eyes appeared dead again.
Before it became obvious that she was nothing but an empty shell. Shattered, broken, and unable to ever be put back together again.