Abstract
She can see the GAPE of CRIMSON grow larger as it spills over the edges and runs down her hand. She can see the SCARLET DROPS grow larger as they gather at her fingertips and then detach and fall through space. But no sound comes from her lips. To an onlooker this would seem an EERILY QUIET moment, a moment engulfed in deathly silence. But the girl lying in the PUDDLE of BLOOD in the silent war hears the discordant noises [horizontal ellipsis] raging and roaring as they grate through her mind, PIERCING REMINDERS of what she'd rather FORGET[horizontal ellipsis](Anonymous, 2001)