She was left breathless, heavy, as if the world she had braved and grown to accept, deteriorated into a fine porous dust that slipped violently through her fingers. The reality was almost surreal at this moment, speechless yet screaming, as if all people around her moved methodically slow, almost caught in a replaying still that would continue timelessly until it was stopped on demand. Stopped, by a remote that she, unfortunately, did not have, nor would she ever control. Her mouth was parched, eyes tepidly were swollen, as her arms and fingers rang with a familiar weakness. Her shame and worthlessness began to choke her, as she questioned the triviality of her existence. She glanced around being sure to not be seen, and quickly repositioned her hijab, checking twice to be sure her neck and hair were covered.