She's always been closed off.
Well, not always. She can remember a time when she was so open. Open to be loved. Open to be cared for. Open to the chance of happiness that life could bring. She could never understand why people would never look her in the eye.
She learnt soon enough.
She remembers the day when it happened. It wasn't given gently, the news that she wasn't who she thought she was. It was shouted, shouted in words so angry, so bitter, so full of blistering hate, that she could only cower over a broken plate,sobbing, trying to understand what was being said: her parents had given her up?
No. No, this was her home. These were her parents. This was her life. But the words couldn't be blocked out, no matter how hard she tried.
And so her walls came up; wall that said my parents love me. They love me, they love me so much. And she thought no one could hurt her. But the world gave her blow after blow and those walls were slowly changed. They grew harder and colder and turned into icy fortresses that said my parents threw me away. They threw me away. I was worth nothing to them. I'm worth nothing to you either.
And then she turned eighteen, and wonderful and terrinble things happened to her, and then her walls became simpler. Simpler, but oh, so stronger, because they now said only one thing:
Don't trust anyone.