"How are you feeling?" Sandra asked, putting the plate of food down on the table beside the bed.

I stopped talking about how I felt long ago because no one cared anyway.

Emotionally, I was done.

Mentally, I was drained.

Spiritually, I was dead.

Physically, I was broken.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to yell, I wanted to shout, but all I could do was lay there and shed tears. I didn't even know what I was feeling anymore. Was it fear? Was it anger? Was it hatred? Or was the fragments of vulnerability was piercing through me. Everything felt so much hopeless, and there were no ways to...