She has been turned against herself one too many times; she has been played by the opposing team to force herself to lose, and this is her response. This is her refusal to take their abuse for even one more day.
She placed her trust in something; something she may have thought was good. She let herself be vulnerable, pained, and culpable, and those feet walked all over
every
part of her.
It will be a struggle, not to hate herself for letting things get this far. It will be a struggle not to condemn her mind as broken. Ruined. Weak. Impetuous. Useless. And very much at fault for all of this. Because that is what she was told. That is how she was looked at. That is how she was perceived, and that perception was like a disease to which she is not immune. To which she may never be immune.
She must keep up her strength. She must keep up her health. A downturn, a backslide, could send her to the sick bed and closer to death's door than she would ever dare stray. They have injured her. They have battered her. They have ripped everything out of her and strewn it about the stage for an audience of scoffers and scorners and self-absorbed critics. Their bias has muddled her mind and twisted her own. She must claw her way back
to truth.
The realization of her naïveté pains her. Her ignorance. Her mistakes. Her failures. And then theirs. Theirs overshadow everything - or they ought to. Theirs are magnanimous in comparison - or they ought to be. Theirs are worse, far worse, than anything she has ever done. She knows this. She feels this. It is a crushing weight bearing down upon her with no regards for her sanity or well being-
And yet.
Her mind plays against her. A game that's hardly fair. This desperation for a way to stop losing again, and again, and again, is draining her of everything. She's had enough. She cannot play the game anymore. Go on without her. Find someone else to play your game. She's given her everything. You've taken all of it. That's it. That's all. No more.
Trampled. Tormented. Tortured. They cannot turn around and say that they did not do these things. But that is exactly what they do. They look back and say it did not happen that way - you did not feel that way - you had no reason to take it that way.
But she did. Because she could. And really, there was no other way. She took it at face value. It backhanded her into oblivion.
It happened. Uproariously. One time too many.
Better than build up a wall, she can now spring up a barricade. Protego, and whatnot. A shield. A force-field. An instant form of don't touch me. There are rules with this shield, rules not to be broken. That would set off the alarm. That would activate all defenses. There are rules in place now, and if lines are ever crossed again, consequences will be severe. Immediate. And effective.
This is not a game they can play. This is not a game they can win. This is the battle for her soul, and it is not theirs to take. They had a treasure available once, not so long ago, and they soiled it. They reached out and dropped it, just to see if it would shatter.
It exploded instead. Shards. Sharp. Cuts. Blood. There is no mercy left for these pieces to collect and form. There is no pity that can seep from the cracks, there is no repair that can fix what was done.
It is over.
