[she is... at this point, genuinely too tired to manage to shed proper tears anymore. all she does is stand there by the dresser letting the bittersweetness of it all wash over her only to eventually be left with nothing but the bitterness. the all too vivid and undeniable sense of what truly happened and the hopelessness she's felt her whole life.

these are red truths that can't be challenged.

not by her.

not in this state.

she leaves the photograph back where it was and moves for the door. she could probably try to clean up more of this room, but is that even something she should keep doing? is it even helping anyone? certainly not her, at any rate.]