DAYBREAK
Chapter I
Dark Horizon
The birds were singing outside her window, as though welcoming her to a new day. She however was in no mood at all for their happy songs and felt that they were more of a nuisance than even her ringing alarm clock. She stood up languidly and looked out at the window. It has lost its spark, she thought as she placed her fingers nostalgically at its edge, then at her pink lacy curtains draped around it.
"Pink, come to think of it, I've never really liked this damnable color."
She slapped the curtains out of habit and annoyance and went towards her closet. A yellow stuffed animal came out of the lower drawer of her desk. She paid no attention to it and simply went on rummaging through her closet. She took out a crumpled piece of cloth which looked as though it had just came out of the dryer, but turned out to be her school uniform. She crinkled her nose in disgust and threw it at her bed. Dirty. Everything was a mess and it reflected her perfectly fine. Her whole life was a mess and she didn't really want to do anything about it at the moment. After staring at it for some time, she shrugged and consented on placing the dirty thing over her head.
"It doesn't look as bad when you put it on, I guess."
She put on her skirt and plopped unto her messy bed. She pulled on her socks, same wrinkly cloth just like everything else inside her room. She went towards the mirror and frowned at her reflection. She poked at her face, making strange expressions and gestures, pulling down her eye just for the heck of it, as she has seen others do on TV when they've had a lousy sleep and an even lousier waking.
So this was she now, pale, thin, and with a hair trouble that followed her through every moment. Come rain or shine, it stood, it strayed, it flew to where it wanted to and she had had enough of running after it that she'd forgotten how to care at all. She pinched her cheeks to give herself a rosy look but the redness quickly faded and all it left her with was a sore face. Her frown grew even longer and she grabbed a comb from her desk.
"Pink again! God! How many pink things do I have to have in this room before I realize what a totally awful headache it gives me? This is stupid!" She was grumbling in frustration.
She brushed her hair in a furious pace, pulling and tugging at caught ends and tangled strands. She took a black band from under a magazine sprawled over the counter and messily tied it on her hair. She let a few golden strands fall to her face and pinned up the rest with various small clips and hairpins, making her hair even messier than what it was before. She shrugged it off. She was in no mood to fuss over it and she'd rather face ridicule than comb her tangled locks again. She was late, and it wasn't the first time.
The small toy-like creature flew up beside her as if to speak but she waved up her hand as though she where merely attending to some bothersome insect buzzing around her face. His face fell but said no more. He knew her and he knew her moods. It would be at her best interests if she were to be left alone to sort things out by herself rather than be hassled around into telling her problems to other people who pretend to care but never really do. She was different now. No longer the smiling ever-optimistic child whom he had once called the Card Mistress. She doesn't even bring her cards out anymore, not even just out of habit or a sense of longing for the past. She has changed and perchance will continue to change as long as these things continue, giving her no rest, even at night. The Sakura he once knew so well and have grown to love was no longer here in the body of this beautifully disheveled teenage girl and even if she were, she would probably be asleep. It was a different side of her that animated this scrawny girl before him. He lowered his head as a sign of respect for her need of silence and sat down on the bed.
The girl greatly appreciated not being beleaguered so early in the morning and gave her little guardian a meek smile, which lighted up the little lion's spirit. He waved a small paw at her as she left but she didn't bother to look back. He didn't mind it all. He had gotten something far more than what he could expect from her at the moment.
She went down the stairs and headed straight for their mustard yellow refrigerator. It was full, as usual, with unhealthy snacks and carbonated drinks, but it would be better than to starve to death while waiting for others to buy the grocery and cook some decent meals. Besides, these small packaged foods were convenient, practical, and portable, best for days when you're too late to actually sit down and have a meal, just like today. She took a bag of potato chips for her breakfast and one of those packed sandwiches you can buy cheap at a convenience store for her lunch. She grabbed a half frozen canned orange juice, one of the more nutritious things in their icebox if not the only, and stuffed it inside her lunchbox along with her food. She closed the ref with a bang and headed for the door. She glanced at her watch, 7:30. This day was getting worse by the minute. She placed on her skates, probably the only thing that hasn't changed in all these years, and raced towards her school.
*********
She received odd stares and hurtful side comments when she opened the door to her classroom. She merely looked down and bowed to her teacher. He nodded silently and motioned her to her seat with his eyes.
They were snickering, these thickly powdered girls and those well-combed boys, just as they always do when she was near them. Just a few years back, she had cried every night in her father's arms and he had told her to be patient, to give it a chance and that all would end up well and she'd fit in. Well, two years had passed and damned these people if they thought she'd be a crybaby all her life. Nothing changed and she never fit in and suddenly, it all didn't matter. She hated these people, despised them for their snotty looks and their snotty attitudes, and just for being who they were as what came natural to them, being snotty stuck-up children who could buy their way into life with their parents' cash. She hated them even more than they hated her, she, the child of a mere professor, given a scholarship to their prestigious school when it was reserved for people like them. She was a disgrace to the school's name, and they made every effort to show her just that. Crybaby. Witch. She didn't belong here with them! They would drive her out if they had to make her life every bit as miserable as they could to do it.
But she gave them a hard stare, and her emerald eyes showed no hurt or shame. She was hard as a rock now and they couldn't budge her. She's been made hard by everything they had done to her and every misery she had come to know these past few years. She would not cry even if they ridiculed her, taunted her, played tricks on her for the sake of making her suffer. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing they had done damage to her, her pride would not allow it, and so she stood firm to her ground and she learned to shut their irritating voices out.
They grew silent, perhaps disappointed that she had made no reaction whatsoever. Their teacher continued on with the lecture, explaining how the digestive system worked. Trachea, esophagus, down into the small intestine…., they all came as a blur to her. She smiled as she pretended to listen to the lessons, thinking of how much fun it would be to shove a large stone down their throats to stop them from snickering like mutts in a pound. She imagined slicing them up in pieces or twisting their intestines in a rod-like contraption with barbs all over to make the experience even more gruesome and unbearable. And she imagined herself laughing, not sickened, but maddened by the sight of their bloody corpses and their blood smeared on her hands and face, and suddenly she grew afraid. The dream had come back to her. So much blood everywhere. The lifeless bodies, shards of glass, that haunting noise from the depths of the earth, and his face, inanimate and pale in her bloody hands.
She woke up. Her teacher was standing in front of her. She quickly sat up and was prepared to apologize when she realized they were the only two souls left in the room. The sun had just set outside the window, and the sky was bathed in red. Blood. Just like in her dreams. She dismissed the thought, yet found herself completely enthralled by the heaven's scarlet glow and she could not look elsewhere but at the sky. She heard her teacher speak and his voice was low but smooth, soothing like all men his age, in their prime are. She looked up at him, and saw in his eyes concern. He touched her face and at first she was surprised at the warmness of his hand as it stroked her cheek but soon realized that it was out of friendly manner and not of malicious intent. He had wiped off a tear that trickled down her face as she stared at the sky. She smiled in gratitude and he smiled back. She was amazed at how young he looked, and how handsome his chiseled face was and how soft his thin lips seemed when it reflected the fading light. Beautifully rouged and divinely kissable. Yet she was not drawn to him in that way was she? No, it couldn't be. It must be like her feeling towards Yukito. She wanted to be with him and take comfort in his words and his embrace, but a fatherly love was all she could and wanted to seek from them both.
"Why were you crying?" His tone was that of distress and paternal protectiveness and it gave his voice a fuller sound. He took a chair and sat down beside her.
She looked at him with curiosity. Never had any man shared such an intimate question with her, except for her own father, with so much sincerity and care. He was careful not to press yet he showed interest in her answer and a willingness to wait until she had found it in herself to break the silence and speak. His face was like an open book and his eyes wandered off towards the sun. He was serene and content and absolutely beautiful. She stared at his eyes for just a moment and found that they had a most strange color to them, like the color of the sky at twilight or as it was now, almost like blood. But with a more heavenly gleam, she thought, like that of goodness that is hidden within a man's soul yet shines out through his eyes. At that moment, she fell in love with him, just as she fell in love with Yukito. She wanted to be near him, to be in his arms and to feel warmth in her cold limbs. And because of this want, she found the strength to talk.
"Maybe for the sky, maybe for myself." Her voice was hushed as though she told a precious secret. She paused for a while, not letting her eyes wander from his face, and then she continued. " It was bleeding but it looked so beautiful that I wanted it to remain that way forever. I know it's selfish but I wanted it that way. I wanted it to bleed more than anything else." It was perhaps an acknowledgement "I've never felt that way before. I was afraid I had lost myself." She looked down and one by one, crystal-like tears trickled down her face and stained her cheeks yet she looked even more beautiful in this frail state.
He stared at her and again, the sincerity was there. His eyes were so clear that she could see herself in them. Her messy hair, her thin limbs, and her tear-stained cheeks, yet it was beauty that was reflected in his eyes, for he saw her as a creature of immense beauty, like a cherry blossom, stunning even as it falls down from its branches and lands on the ground. Just like that. A befitting name for someone like her, he thought, for he could not think of anything more beautiful and pure as she was than the cherry blossoms she was named after. And so he smiled, and his lips were smooth and inviting. He took her hand in his and he held it tightly.
"It is beautiful and there's nothing selfish about wanting to appreciate beauty. It was given to us, after all, as gifts to be treasured and appreciated." He looked at the sky again. It had become darker now and the sun could no longer be seen over the horizon. Its last rays were reaching out towards the clouds yet it was quickly fading away. The blood was almost gone. "There's a fear in all of us, that we would loose ourselves to our inner demons. We're afraid of hurting people. It's human nature. But really, you can never be beaten as long as you do not give up. Because when you do, you surrender all your hope and all your love for the world that surrounds you and all that will be left is that demon, full of all the hate you've hidden. And only then would you have lost." He sighed a long soft sigh and his eyes grew more intent as he looked at her. "You will never loose. You are strong beyond your own thought. Believe that and believe that you will always have someone worth fighting that demon for."
He smiled one last smile, and it looked to her as though it was a farewell of sorts and she was right. He placed her hand on the table and stood up. How gracefully he had done it. He was like a prince from a faraway place, tall and slender and handsome, yet wise as though he has lived years without count. It reminded her of her own brown-haired prince. She was sorry to see him leave. She wanted to stay in that moment for as long as possible and yet the moment was gone before she could even believe it was real. And he was gone and so was the warmth in her hands. She wiped her face and stood up.
"Maybe a dream," she whispered to herself as she placed her things into her bag and pushed back the chair under the table. But she stared at the seat beside her and she knew it was no dream. She had fallen in love with the man who had sat on it just a while back. It was a strange kind of love, and it confused her but she liked the feeling and she left it at that. She pushed back the chair as well to its proper place and she bid her knight a silent farewell.
*********
It was late when she returned home. She was about to open the gate when something caught her eye. She saw them, standing smugly by the gate. Four girls and three guys, all dressed as she was, in their high school uniform, and they seemed ready for a brawl. The tallest girl, the one with yellow hair and freckles on her face, was first to speak. Her voice was harsh and it reminded Sakura of a snake slithering and hissing as it went along. Sakura paid no heed to her. She walked towards the gate in an even pace, without any fear or anxiety. She was above these lowlifes, she reminded herself, as she placed the key into the lock. She heard a click and pushed the gate open but at once she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. It was her again, that foreign girl, and for all her golden locks and her expensive cosmetics, she looked as ugly as the snake she sounded like. Sakura turned to face her and sneered at her. She took her by the wrist. She held it tightly and the girl's grip began to loosen, and then all together withdrew from her shoulder. She turned her back on them and proceeded towards the gate but again she felt a hold on her shoulder, but this time stronger, firmer and painful. It was the redheaded boy from her class. He was tall, almost six feet at just the age of fifteen, with an iron grip no doubt as a result of his athletic training. He had a handsome face, especially when he smiled, but now it was distorted into a frightening grin. She knew she could not deal with him in the manner she had dealt with his blond friend. He was too strong and she herself was feeling weak and exhausted. She smiled at him and her eyes showed hate and mockery.
"What do you want? It better be good or you're wasting your time here." There was no fear in her voice and it further aggravated this young Hercules. He tightened his grip and this time he twisted her around so that she was facing the others instead of him, and he was behind her, pinning her right arm to her back. He took hold of her neck with his other arm and he was choking her. He had lifted her off the ground and she was now helpless against him and his companions.
She could hardly breathe and her right arm was numb behind her. Her left was of no use as it could barely make a scratch on his muscled arm. Her feet were dangling below her and she could feel that she was loosing consciousness. She tried to sputter out a few words for all they were worth.
"This the best you can do, dim-wit?" She smiled once more as if to show that she was not at all affected by his display of strength. He smiled too as he held her neck even tighter and her arm in an even more uncomfortable position. She cringed but did not yell. She swore no tear would come from her even if they killed her. She would not give them that pleasure.
The others stood closer before her. They had smirks on their faces and that gleam of victory in their eyes, like that of a predator when it stands over the corpse of its prey. And she was their pray and they held her in their power but she would not give them what they wanted the most and so this further inflamed their malice towards her. The blond one came towards her again as she struggled in her captor's hands. She could feel herself falling into the abyss but she held on with the last of her strength. She opened her eyes and she could see that this displeasured the girl and her friends very much. Were they really meaning to kill her? Have they lost their minds? But she did not let fear come into her heart. It was anger that she called forth and with it rage and the power she needed to hurt them badly if not in actions then in words.
"Do you really think you could do it?" she asked in between gasps of breath. Her lungs were failing her but she continued on. "You think you'll get away with it just because daddy's rich? Think again assholes! Murder is murder and believe me, this is murder in the first degree. You'll hang for this and I'll be waiting in the other side to accompany you all to hell!" She tried to kick Matthew, the giant holding her, but found that she had no strength left except for words. Yet she swung her foot and luckily, it hit the blond girl square in the face and sent her down unto her knees. Her friends surrounded her and helped her up and her eyes looked as though they were the devil's eyes in her great anger.
"Bitch! You'll pay for that!" She slapped Sakura on the face, over and over again until she felt her hands numb with the impact. Then she kicked her, right on her stomach and Sakura shouted in pain, but no tears came to her eyes. She was as determined as ever to see this through to the end. She brought out another smile, though it hurt her cheeks to move, which infuriated the girl even more. The others stood by, perfectly idle without a care in the world. They were merely there to watch, to enjoy the sport as you might say. It was the two who held her who had come with the intention of destroying her, Matthew and the blond snake! The foreign girl came even closer but before she could strike a blow, Sakura spitted on her face. The girl reeled with disgust and the spectators laughed. God! It was like those games in ancient Rome when they killed people just for the fun of seeing them die in agony and dishonor. This is disgusting!
The girl was deranged. She had been made a fool long enough. She took a metal pole that was leaning on the wall. "You're gonna die! I've had enough of looking at your stupid face! When I'm done with you not even all my father's money can put you together again!" With one fierce strike, she hit Sakura in the stomach again. Matthew had let go of her and she was now sprawled on the hard ground, cringing and holding her belly in pain.
"Just as well!" Sakura sputtered as she balled up in pain. "I wouldn't lay a hand on your father's filthy money! It wouldn't be worth it!"
Again she struck her with the pole and Sakura felt herself cough and sputter out blood. She closed her eyes and she could feel the blow over and over again. They were kicking her now but she was past all feelings of pain. She was numb all over and she could no longer move. She could hear them laughing and screaming and taunting her. Everything around her was a haze, and she felt trapped in a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.
And then quite suddenly she heard something apart from all the chaos that buzzed about her. An angelic voice, sweet and smooth became audible above the shouts of her hellish assailants. This voice was stained with anger and rage. A tint of disgust flowed through the almost melodious sound, which gave this voice more power and authority. It sounded so like thunder as it roared at the little devils that scampered out of its way, aware of the coming lightning that it heralded with its colossal call. She heard this voice but she could not perceive its words, but she felt an inexplicable peace come upon her as she felt it come closer. And so, she allowed herself to fall into the exquisite darkness and all at once, everything was gone, and she could no longer hear, or feel anything at all.
Sweet silence. Perhaps this is death. It isn't so bad after all.
*********
When she next opened her eyes, a bright light greeted her. She smiled her sweetest smile. "I'm in heaven," she thought, "And there's no more pain at all." But it was quickly gone and the numbness disappeared. She felt unbearable pain all over her body and fear had crept up into her heart. Her emerald eyes grew glassy and fresh tears sprung forth from them.
She heard someone come in but she didn't care. She couldn't see anything but darkness and she thought that she was in Hades once more and that she would see the corpses heaped one over the other and she would find him dead on her lap. That was the worst pain of all and she shouted in fear of it. She felt someone hold her tightly, and she felt familiar warmth surround her body yet she continued to cry. She heard noises and sounds behind her and around her, they were saying something to her but she couldn't understand, just like the angel's voice before, their meanings were lost in the heavy mist that surrounded her mind. It was like they were speaking in a foreign tongue, which she could not hope to comprehend. But they were soothing to her ears. She knew there were good feelings behind these inaudible words and she let them envelope her until she felt that her tears had run dry. And the warmth still remained. It held her as a mother would hold onto child in pain and it caressed her cheeks and combed out her hair. Such large hands. Delicate and long fingers. "They seem so familiar," she thought "Papa?"
Slowly she saw images come into form. A handsome man in his thirties was sitting beside her, holding her tightly in his arms as though she were the most precious thing in this world to him. How pale he looked and his eyes were sore and swollen and rimmed with red. "Had he been crying for me?" And he looked even thinner now than what she last recalled but his arms were strong and they supported her aching body. She found herself burying her face into his chest. Such a sweet smell, like roses in springtime and nothing like Hades. And it was then she knew that she had survived the ordeal and that she was once again with the people she held dear to her heart.
She felt a hand on her head. Another one, just like papa's. Long delicate fingers and soft large hands. "Brother?" And she looked up and indeed it was he, though he too has changed so much since she had last seen him. He was pale and thin, like his father, and his dark brown hair was messy and tangled. His beautiful brown eyes seemed duller than usual but it gleamed with concern and happiness she knew was for her. She had never seen him like this but it was a comforting sight and she wished, had it not been for the terrible pain that this moment would linger on. There were others around. Friends, so many good friends she thought she had lost when she moved into that accursed school. She spotted a young girl, pretty with dark blue eyes and long dark locks and memories swept through her mind, and a name came instantly out. "Tomoyo." And there she was, standing silently at the corner, smiling serenely at her friend. Her smile had always meant so much to Sakura and she silently thanked her for it. Behind her was Chiharu, and beside her the ever-smiling Takashi. By the window were Rika and Mr. Terada. And by her other side, a handsome young man with silver hair, glistening in the sunlight, and heavenly brown eyes she had fallen for once. His smile was exquisite and it gave Sakura a newfound peace. She smiled back and slowly drifted off to sleep.
*********
And in her sleep she saw him. He was there with her, talking and laughing as they had so often done before. They would laugh about jokes and of Takashi's stories, they would laugh because it suited them to laugh and because they felt happy for no apparent reason. They would talk for hours of nothing in particular and yet they would understand each other perfectly well. They would smile forever as though their smiles were plastered unto their lips and their mouths could make no other form but this happy little curve. They would look up at the sky and talk of magic and ancestors and of things only they shared. It was bliss at that time. Euphoria. Everything was perfect. He would teach her math after school and they would go to his apartment, which never seemed to be untidy, and there they would wander off from numbers to how the stars looked or how the moon was so bright that night. And he would cook such delicious things from his homeland and they would dine together in that small dining room, and they would shyly cast glances at one another until their faces are so red that they simply look away. And in turn for his hospitality and help, she would invite him to her home and she would cook for him pasta and serve him tea with cakes. And Cerberus would come down in his cutely distorted form and would pick a fight with him, calling him a brat, and he, calling Cerberus a little toy, and she would simply get out of the way as not to involve herself. Then her brother would come and if indeed looks could kill, they'd have killed each other by then, until of course Yukito comes, and smiles his very charming smile, which would stop the two. And everything would be fine and they would merely laugh about it the next day in school, where he sat behind her and often helped her answer the teacher's questions. After class, they would eat together with their friends under the cherry trees and again they would laugh at Takashi's stories. And he would look at her and she would smile and indeed they were very happy with life.
She opened her eyes once more and found that her cheeks were wet. She had cried in her sleep again, just as she had always done when she dreamt of him and their happy times. She looked at the ceiling, then around the room. White concrete walls, one large window at the side by which a table was rooted in its place and chairs around it. A small television was placed in front of her, up on the wall so that all may benefit from its entertainment. Around her, machines and instruments of different kinds, rubber tubes and hosing which led up to her arms where she saw needles poked into the flesh. And beside her, on her right side, she say a tiny black box with a screen, and it had green lines which moved up and down, she realized, in time with her heart's beating. She was in the hospital and she knew she was no longer in danger, yet the pain remained and it was still unbearable. She looked to her other side, and there she saw her father asleep. He had laid his head on her bed out of exhaustion and had fallen asleep. He seemed peaceful now, and much younger than he was as strands of his short light brown hair fell unto his face. They were alone now, in this room and she noticed that it was nearly dark, for the sky once more was bathed in that fading blood color. But this time, she did not look at it. Instead, she stared at her father and she brushed the fallen hair off his face. She was glad for him being there. She could not have stood to be alone at that moment.
The others came back later that night. She was able to sit up now, though her stomach ached when she did, but she bore with it so as to speak better and see better the people around her. She accepted a spoon from her father and drank down the soup he held out for her. It felt good as the warm liquid passed through her body, giving her heat especially in her stomach, which hurt the most. She remembered the pain of the first blow, and the second, and the third, and the numbness that came with the following blows. She closed her eyes to erase the feeling, yet it remained with her even in her sleep.
"How long have I been sleeping?" She rested her head on the pillow and looked up.
"Nearly a week now." It was her father who spoke. " Touya saw you lying on the ground unconscious, when he came home from the university. He said you were bloody and badly bruised when he found you and that he thought you were dead. He took you to the hospital and that's when he called me. Your friends came as soon as they heard."
"Who did this to you?" Touya had stood up, obviously angry and disarrayed. Sakura closed her eyes again. She tried to remember them, their smug faces and their nasty grins. She remembered the one who hit her, the ugly blond girl with a voice like a snake's, and the red haired boy, the one who held her, the one who nearly broke her arm and choked her to death, Matthew.
"From school. They had the same uniform as me. Matthew was there and a blond snake. I can't remember the others but there were many of them. They just stood and watched and they laughed when I spit on that girl's face." She looked to her side. It was painful even to recall. She didn't want to remember it but it came back over and over again as if it were automatically programmed into her mind to torment her if she had survived death.
She held her face with her hands and she felt the many bruises. She was too pale now, much paler than she had been before, and she realized that she must have broken a rib or two, which would account for the horrible pain on her midsection. Then some shame came over her as she regained the feeling of soreness on her cheeks and the pain on her face. She turned altogether to her side. She didn't want to show her face. How ugly it must have been, raw and battered and disfigured beyond recognition by the unforgiving hand of that devil girl with the golden locks. How she hated her for it, for harming her face. She had not known herself to be so vain and she loathed herself for it. " I am a damnable thing, a lying wrench who is vain beyond all pretensions!" she thought to herself as she felt hot tears form at the bottom of her eyes. She wanted them to look away. She wanted to hide. But her father's hand came down upon her shoulder gently, and he shook his head.
"You're as beautiful as ever. They'll never change that." He was smiling so proudly and it occurred to her that he was proud of her, for having survived against all the odds to be talking with him at this moment. For not leaving him as her mother had done in the past. He was proud because she fought death and she had won. But she was scared now, and she couldn't tell this to him. She was scared of death even more because she knew its pain. But he kept on smiling, and even when he looked away she knew that the smile remained and she was glad for that.
They left her when it was too late to do anything else but sleep and they all kissed her goodnight and said sweet things she knew were true. She smiled appreciatively at them, one by one, till only she and her father were left in the room once more. He brushed up his hair with his hand in a casual manner, and he looked like a teenage boy lost for words. He was handsome even with the lines under his eyes and the few silver hairs that had appeared on his head. It was a kind of beauty that not even time could erase; on the contrary, it was enhanced by time for now he looked like a god lost in the land of the living. He sat beside her again, and he bent down and she felt the touch of his warm lips on her forehead. It had been a while since he last did it and memories of happy childhood flooded her with warmth. But soon came more recent memories, of being left alone in the house, of having no one to talk to, of loosing him, and she was left with the coldness she had started with. But she savored his kiss for who knows when he will kiss her next? He may be too busy once more with work to come tuck her in at night. She was not mad at him at all for being busy, she understood why he did it, but the misery it brought her was painful nonetheless and she had no one to blame. It's a frightening thing to be thrust into the real world so quickly where real pain and sorrow can overcome you at any moment, and in that world you know that you are alone and no one would help you, and if you lose yourself there's just no coming back. She was here now, in this real world, but she found that her notions about it might not be entirely true. Yes, there was so much pain, and sorrow, and fear, but she was never alone. Because everyone else was in the real world and all they could do to survive was to hold on to one another.
