She knew it was wrong. More precisely, she knew that it was ridiculous and worthless to speculate.
Trying to turn her thoughts off, to shut down the questions; trying to make sense of the absurdity of her world, only drove her mind further into darkness.
Sleep would never come if she couldn’t turn off the images and her own voice playing over and over inside her head.
What has to happen to a person to turn them so inward.
What sort of fear grips them, numbing them, paralyzing them and closing off their emotions.
It seems easier to live behind a wall than to speak to those who should be your world. She can only imagine the pain there, while at the same time living with her own pain and disappointment.
Nothing will unlock the tightly closed gate. Nothing, even the most blatant message of despair, will allow a word to form, a sound to press forth, a voice to be heard.
The silence is complete.
That silence is the most powerful of voices. It resonates between wall and floor and crushes those trapped inside it’s dark presence.
It is whole.
As sleep finally comes, she knows there will never be sound in this world.
Silence is the master over this void that grows ever wider.