Siyeon wasn’t very vocal. Like at all. She stored her emotions deep within her. Did not allow a single stone thrown her way to crack at her perfectly polished shell. When people made her angry, upset or confused, she just kept the bubbles brewing at bay. Provocation ran deep in her veins. Poking away, mirroring a needle attempting to extract blood. All her life she had grown up hearing assumed whispers bounce around the walls of her ears, before dipping directly into them. Tearing away, scraping and scratching yet Siyeon doesn’t let up. Doesn’t let the ill words overtake her calm. She knows that if she finally gives out, she’ll be left with nothing.

The tiny spec of dignity she manages to mould every night whilst in the tears that attempt to fall on her flushed cheeks, begin to shape into something she’s never seen before. It provides her a sanctuary where she can discover a new side of herself. One beyond all the insults casted her way, a place where she doesn’t have to put on a strong front in front of her abusers. Some people sit back and watch all the malice enter her body to never leave. Faint smiles of fake support are visible. They does nothing to lessen the pain. She closes off the weak sustenance, wants the bad words to cement in her body, to us it against them one day when she finally explodes. Creating a mass of destruction she’s carefully structured. Maybe then they’ll understand that