Madilynn O’Henry. Her writing was sloppy, written as if a kindergartner had just written it for the first time. Her breath was shallow. In through her nose. Out through her nose. The dirt laden rag that gagged her mouth kept her from a more comfortable breath. Her burning throat made it impossible to even whisper. Her under-fed body barely supported her size 00 rags called jeans. Her shirt hung on her yellow-tinted skin. Her eyes were hollow, her eyes were dark, her eyes held death.