(Summary)
Her reality was swirled with a dream world. She was confused, alone, and on the borderline of insanity. There was no person, no thing, that could save her.
The worst part was the fact that she didn't want to be saved.
Miroku's Conclusion: Chapter One
Emotionless. Everything, all of them. Not sad, nor happy, not upset, just...empty. Miroku studied the picture harder. There had to be something, anything. It was impossible for someone to be so monotonous. At least he'd thought so. I wonder, he thought amused, if she's ever tried drawing smilies...
Now, there was an interesting question...
He could imagine it now, a plain, gray, circle with a straight line for a mouth, and big, round, blank eyes...probably bleeding/dieing... Well, he reasoned, it's time to return to working...or (as he called it) analizing the doodles of a nut-case...
Scrimaging though a pile of drawings at least five feet tall, he took mental note that, "This girl is fucked up in the head..."
"How pleasant, that one got stabbed in the eyes, this one is burning alive, is that Samara? Ooh! Some one's getting run over by a bus in this one...Hey! Is that me!" It's official...after this job, never again will he associate with the demon teen that drew these pictures. She was a hazard to his health...