no frantic scratches across my back
no hickeys on my neck
no existence of a lover
just the presence of unyielding dry red paste under my tiny white nails.
(Perhaps) I felt no pain this time.
I know I felt no cold.
My legs can run away with me now.
My body is (perhaps) free from the demons that belittle most girls this age.
No matter that my demon paid special attention to me.
My body has (perhaps) managing to fix itself.
It might be slowly patching itself up.
But I'm still broken.