...

ll sob ll

ll restricted to a small area, she'd keep mostly to 'her room'. even though every time she so much as looked at the bed, it turned her stomach and made her cringe. needless to say, due to this as well as other reasons, the young woman who'd already been struggling with insomnia preceding the trauma was now getting even less sleep than before.

whenever she did succumb to sleep, she'd suffer worse night terrors than she'd ever had before. as a result of this, her face and arms would maintain an ample supply of rather deep scratches from her panicked thrashing and clawing at herself in her sleep. to lessen her own torment, she'd soon take to biting her nails down to the skin, till they bled more often than not. chances were, this would develop into yet another nervous habit.

she'd tried to lose herself in those books her room was stocked with, but she'd never get through a single chapter and give up before the third day had gone by. instead, she'd take to mindlessly organizing them alphabetically by title, then pulling them all off the shelves, setting them in neat little stacks, and reorganizing them back on the shelf by author. only to repeat the entire process again.

she didn't eat much. and having cried herself out more times than she'd care to count, the captive must have run out of tears. she certainly wouldn't speak unless made to, her throat raw and sore enough from shrieking in panic in her sleep ll

...

No.

Horror movies...

I use vinegar instead of most condiments.

I don't think I'm very much of either...

Medical? I think I need to do some research...

It depends on the severity of it, but typically yes.

Names of historic battles, exotic places, prestigious schools, particles, sequences of code, equations, classifications and the like, absolutely. But people's names? Not as good as I'd like to be.

What?! Nonono, absolutely not. No way.

Sandals, yes. But not flip-flops.

I don't think so.

I like to think so.

When stupid people hurt themselves.

Quiet.

When I was younger, while I was still in the orphanage, I had a little ceremony for my parents. I wore dark colours, made a little shrine, burnt a drawing I had done and put myself through the grieving process, convincing myself that my parents must have perished rather than accepting that they had actually given me up. That little bit of closure, even if false, was better than going without.

I try not to be.

A great many things. As much as can be known, I suppose.

Return the favour?