Get away.

You walked into her room and saw the manikin. It was painted with reds, purples, pinks and whites. It was artistic. It looked pretty to anyone who walked in her room. But for the people who knew what it meant, it was a nightmare. The manikin was her. The purples matched the exact color of her bruises. The pinks of her scars. The red blood dripping from her wounds. The white of bones that were broken, and mended again. There wasn't enough room on the body, on her body for anymore wounds. She needed to get a new manikin, a new life, to start over. She needed to get away.