She sits in her room by herself, all alone.

In her hand she holds a picture of the only one who cared. A single tear slips down her cheek as she remembers his loving presence, his caring touch. He had given meaning to her life, given her a reason to live. Now he was gone forever, along with her last hope of a normal life.

In her other hand she holds a knife. She contemplates this knife, dangerously close to sliding its cruel tip into her beaten and broken heart. With him gone, life no longer means anything to her. She steels her resolve and places the cold blade above her barely beating heart.

In her mind she holds regrets, wishes left unfulfilled. She remembers times she could have spent with him, but rather wasted on her own personal desires. She hates herself for every lost moment and wants to end it all.

In her heart she holds a memory, his loving smile. She hears his voice telling her that he will always be there. The knife falls to the floor.

She sits in a room by herself, but she is not alone.