Part 2: the Key To Finding Yourself Lost

She sat upon shiny, cherry wooden flooring spread out across the ground in a small house of confined detachment; the windows were fogged with a sort of icy breath that exhaled down upon the aura of the entire place. The foundation was dreadful and the atmosphere dead. And then there was silence. Silence didn't seem much new to her at this point but regardless did she captured every moment of it anyway apparently. What was she to do? The young woman leaned forward, her hair sliding off her right shoulder, hanging there like a snowy lock of strings. Her deep, dark wines watched the same foggy window as her mind dissected everything that had meaning in her life so far. "I don't care for structure. And I don't care for balance. What is balance?" Her eyes wandered the old, broken down house where the roof seemed to cave in on itself from up above, revealing the dulled, yellow full moon on that cold night. Snow fell freely through the cave, so there was no difference if she was inside or out, it all just seemed to follow her one way or another. She'd been wearing a tattered, torn, velvet, violet shirt that hung loosely around her shoulders, to expose from throat to chest, torso to breast and so on. A pair of matching, shorts ripped from the right hip and ruined from the left hem. She was also barefooted and she sat there on the floor before brushing her hands over the thin blanket of white that settled in her surroundings, covering old, ice-tainted furniture; like chairs and a dresser and a vanity. A vanity that possessed a large mirror with a crack mounted at the upper right corner. She rose from the floor and sat upon the small, cushioned bench that was provided with the Vanity set. She looked at herself in the mirror. "Have you no redemption?" She pushed a single finger to the mirror, and at the sudden second she did, the mirror exploded into millions of tiny shards of glass falling over the snow behind her. "And to them around, does it only end in a full head-on blow." Seemingly, the shards did not fly at her but around her. The framing of the mirror fell forward causing a loud slam to take hold of the silence and the emptiness of her words now. She rose and sauntered on, dragging slim, pale fingers over the disturbed walls of the small house, her feet pressing into the glass shards upon the snow, leaving bloody footprints in the snow as she walked out of the house. Never again. Find that redemption.