(This is just going to be something I write directly from my head. It’s all made up from my head. It isn’t real.)
It’s her room.
Well actually it’s just an old mattress on the floor.
The mattress smells musty and of old cigarettes and it’s covered with an old washed out flowery blanket.
The girl have had that blanket since she was a kid.
It’s her safety, her comfort zone.
She is curled up against the wall.
It feels cool against her skin.
The whole room is actually freezing.
But she just sits there, all curled up with her head slightly tilted forward.
Her dark hair hangs like strands of dead grass from her head.
It hides her sad grey eyes.
Her hands fidget restlessly with a loose thread from her worn out jeans, but the rest of the girl is as still as a statue.
A truck rumbles by and lights up the room with it’s sickly yellow light for a few seconds.
Then it’s gone, both the light and the sound of it’s heavy engines.
The girl rises her head a little bit.
She draws a deep breath.
The air smells of cold and leaves that has begun to rot.
She is young and some say she is pretty, but she is still alone in the dark.
In the dark she both love and hate.
The dark who both hide, sooth and terrifies her.
Suddenly she leaps to her feet and bash her fist in the cold concrete-wall.
Her head falls forward and she rest her forhead against the same wall she just hit.
She takes a new deep breath and let it go with a low but heartbreaking sob.
Outside the rain begin to fall and splash upon the window like hundreds of small drums.
She is young, but still she is alone in the dark.