Now she knew it, she knew the feeling of utter desolation. It was terrifying, that knowledge that if she fell, there would be no one to catch her. Everyone had failed her, left her drowning. There was only one thing to do: erect walls, pull up the drawbridge, and ready the archers. This was war, every man for himself. Trust no one. Sharpen your weapons. Watch your back. They will take you down… Funny, people used to tease her about her gullibility, not anymore. A dark cloud had swept over her heart, and they dared to ask why. They, the very ones that crushed her, dared to ask. What was worse, dying for a crime or living, watching, feeling the guilt eat you alive? It made sense at the time, they said. This will always make sense, she replied, and that guilt tearing at the remaining bits of your heart will always remain. And so the curtains were drawn on the battle, never to reach its clincher, never to find its peace.