The room was quiet except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. The curtains hung half closed, blocking most of the light. A dull shadow spread across the floor, where strands of hair were scattered like fallen feathers.

Lena sat on the edge of the bed with a blank face, holding a pair of scissors in her hand. Her fingers gripped it tightly, almost painfully, as if letting go would mean losing control. She lifted a lock of her hair and cut it off without care. The uneven strands dropped to the floor, mixing with the others.

Her breathing was shallow, her lips pressed together. She did not blink...