Learn.
There was a time when she was too young, too innocent, to know any better. To naïve to know the ways of men, the ways of the world out there. So she didn't even know when she was manipulated. Made to succumb to others' will, forced to do what she did not want to do.
So she was broken, before she'd even really grown up yet. So much that she withdrew into a protective shell, shielding herself from others. Now that she knew the face of evil, she did not want to see any more.
And at that moment, she truly grew up.
But she grew up away from people. Because people are evil.
And so she learnt to hate. To hate even the smallest beings. The most unimportant forms. That tiny ant, that annoying fly.
And so she learnt to close her eyes. So she would not be scared, for she was beginning to fear everything, even the sight of her own hands, for fear that she would one day see that they were red and bloody.
And so she learnt to speak, to really talk, to comment. Yet at the same time she learnt not to say too much, not to let others know.
And so she learnt to run away. Someplace not too far away. Nearby. Someplace where truth was no different from lie, to the extent where she was no longer sure which was which.
And so she learnt to tell her friends things, secrets, in the most obvious ways, yet people no longer listened, or cared, unless it was gossip. Yet what they never realised that she had always been telling them what they wanted to know. Then eventually she gave up on trying to hold on to them, so she finally made a decision - that the next time she came to a dead end, a high brick wall, she wasn't going to stop, or to turn back. She was going right through it. Right through that brick wall, the one which once held her from her life.
And so she learnt to draw. Beautiful red marks across her wrist, each one a deeper scarlet than the previous. For her only way to learn to live would be by dying.
But them, they never learn.