Dust.

She comes from a broken home with no beliefs. Her past holds bruises and blurs. Her future seemed bright until the tunnel caved in...then the whole world became darker because she took after the sun. She was bright when it was...but the second it disappeared, she did too. Her face seemed wrinkled and she did not look like she was 18 years old. She had too many scars for her age. Her hair swept across one eye and she was grasping the red letters as hard as she could in hopes that they would bleed into her. In hopes that she would heal from all the cuts and scrapes that her daddy had made. That her sister had left. That her mother dismissed. She looked beyond everyone to try and find a face in the clouds...and at night, in the stars. When she slept, she only dreamt of better things. But were they tangible? Would they ever be? Will they ever be? She's broken beyond belief. But as she moves her fingers and prays harder than ever-she feels an overwhelming presence that must be something important. She is being held.